THE LIFE 




KEY. JOHN MURRAY, 

f)mcjj*r 0f Enitesml Saltation. 

WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. 

WITH A CONTINUATION, BY IRS. ,TUDITH(s ARGENT 1 MURRAY, 



A NEW EDITION, 

WITH A.1ST INTRODUCTION AND NOTES, 
By REV. G. L. DEMAREST. 




BOSTON: 
UNIVEHSALIST PUBLISHING HOUSE, 

37 COKNHltt,, 

1869. 



v N 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1869, by the 
Universalist Publishing House, 
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the District of Massachusetts. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Introduction 6 



CHAPTER I. 

An account of the author's birth and parentage, with succeeding events 
until the decease of his father . 15 



CHAPTER II. 

Kecord continued until the author's departure from Ireland ... 70 



CHAPTER III. 

Arrival in England, and further progress of the inexperienced traveller . 101 



CHAPTER IV. 

The author becomes a happy husband, a happy father. He embraces the 
" truth, as it is in Jesus," and from this and other combining causes he 
is involved in great difficulties. Death deprives him of his infant son 
and wedded friend, and he is overtaken by a series of calamities . . 143 



CHAPTER V. 

The bereaved man, quitting his native shores, embarks for America, In- 
dulging the fond hope of sequestering himself in the solitude for which 
he sighed. But, contrary to his expectations, a series of circumstances 
unite to make him a promulgator of the gospel of God our Saviour . 185 

III 



IV 



CONTEXTS. 



CHAPTER VI. 

Record continued from September, 1770, to the winter of 1774 . . .213 

CHAPTER VII. 
Summary record of events from January, 1775, to October, 1809 . . .311 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Record continued from October, 1809, to September, 1815, including the 

closing scene 371 

CHAPTER IX. 

Conclusion 380 



INTRODUCTION. 



The original edition of the following work appeared in 
8vo, in the year 1816. The interest of the work secured 
for it a rapid sale, and demanded frequent republication, 
Several editions appeared before 1833, in which 3'ear Rev. 
Thomas Whittemore reproduced it, with annotations and 
additions, in letter-press, and a stereotype edition was also 
published, under the editorial care of Rev. L. S. Everett. 
The former edition was soon exhausted ; the latter continued 
to supply a steady demand until within a few years, when 
by a mistaken, perhaps fortunate, judgment, the plates 
were broken up, sold as old type-metal, and cast into the 
melting-pot. Both of the last-named editions were com- 
pactly printed to secure cheapness. It is peculiarly meet 
that an edition worthy of the subject should now appear 
on the eve of the centenary of American Universalism, 
which dates historically from the appearance of the provi- 
dential man the story of whose life is here related . 

The basis of this edition is that of Mr. Whittemore. 
In his preface, he says : " I flatter myself that the various 
emendations which I have made will enhance the value of 
the work to the public. In some cases I have supplied 
dates where they were w T anting ; in some I have given the 
full name for the initials, and made other alterations of a 
like character. But the text, with a few verbal excep- 

5 



6 



INTRODUCTION, 



tions, is preserved as it was in the original edition. . . . 
I have endeavored, also, to enhance the value of the work 
by the addition of a large body of notes. I had many 
facts in my possession, belonging clearly to the biography 
of Mr. Murray, that had not been incorporated into his 
* Letters and Sketches,' nor into any edition of his 'Life.'" 
Such of Mr. Whittemore's notes and additions as were 
contributions to the biography of the subject we have re- 
tained ; others we have rejected, not for lack of interest, 
but for want of room and appropriateness. We have also 
omitted several documentary items which were not need- 
ful to the general purpose of the biography. And we may 
state here that the pictures, in this volume, of the churches 
associated with Mr. Murray's life, are perfect representa- 
tions of the originals, even to the details, and can be 
relied upon as historically correct. 

It will be observed that the first six chapters of the 
volume are autobiographical. In Mr. Whittemore's words, 
4 'The seventh, eighth, and ninth chapters of the work 
were written by Mr. Murray's widow, a woman of unques- 
tioned talent. Her disposition in regard to the things of 
this world was altogether different from his ; nor was she 
able to suppress a lamentation, which appears in the 
seventh chapter, that he did not avail himself of the 
opportunities offered him to accumulate wealth. She 
removed several years since, with an only daughter and a 
grandchild, to one of the south-western States. They are 
now all deceased ; and not a descendant of Mr. Mur- 
ray is on the earth." It was evidently by Mrs. Murray's 
" earnest solicitations," that the autobiography was under- 
taken. We quote her original preface, which bears date 
May 2, 1816 : " The pages which compose the volume now 



INTRODUCTION. 



7 



presented to the public, were originally designed only for 
the eye of a tender and beloved friend. They were 
written at the earnest request of one to whom the author 
was endeared by many years of intimate friendship, and 
still more by those divine and soul-soothing tenets, of 
which it was his distinguished lot to be ordained the pro- 
mulgator. For those, who, like this individual, have 
dwelt with rapture upon the blessed assurance of the 
boundless and enduring love of a redeeming God, as pow- 
erfully exhibited by those lips which rarely opened but to 
expatiate upon the glad tidings which was the theme of 
the angelic song ; for those who loved the philanthropic, 
the inspired preacher, for the sake of the glorious inspira- 
tion, — these sheets will possess the strongest and most 
important interest ; to such, and to such only, they are 
addressed. It is in compliance with their solicitations 
that they are sent into the world ; and it is not even ex- 
pected that those who turned a deaf ear to his consolatory 
message, and who knew not the powers of his mighty 
mind, or the pure and exalted benevolence of his heart, 
will have any interest in inquiring, 4 What manner of man 
was he who told these things, or what spirit was he of? ' " 

Mr. Murray narrates in detail the circumstances of his 
first marriage and of his bereavement. To the second, 
Mrs. Murray only thus incidentally alludes, at the time 
she notices the considerations which induced the removal 
from Gloucester to Boston : " He had himself again be- 
come the head of a family." In the " United States 
Chronicle," of October 16, 1788, appeared the following 
notice: "Married, at Salem, Mass., October — , 1788, 
Mr. John Murray, of Gloucester, Pastor of the Universal 
Society there, to Mrs. Judith Stevens, of that place." 



8 



INTRODUCTION. 



Mrs. Stevens was the daughter of Capt. Winthrop Sar- 
gent, one of Mr. Murray's stanchest Gloucester friends. 
Her literary gifts were, for the time, distinguished ; and 
the very traditions which suggest her strength of will and 
energetic character also indicate her deep affection and 
profound veneration for her husband, and her earnest in- 
terest in the doctrines which he preached and she had cor- 
dially adopted. Mr. Murray — if we can judge by his 
confidential letters to English correspondents, not merely 
by occasional expressions, but by the frequency and extent 
of his allusions — reciprocated her love, and took pride in 
her gifts. Mr. Whittemore's allusion to her "disposition," 
already quoted, suggests her needful counterpoise to her 
husband's disregard of all financial considerations ; not 
serving to destroy Mr. Murray's liberal feeling, or even 
indicating her own want of generosity, but securing clue 
prudence in the famity economy, and in all probability 
aiding in keeping "the wolf" at bay during the long 
season of Mr. Murray's helplessness. 

While we are interested in the traditions which give 
glimpses of Mrs. Murray's disposition to rule, and her 
strength of purpose, we infer from what we know of her 
the possession of strong affectional magnetism, as well as 
of masculine energy and intellect. She was a faithful 
wife and a help truly meet for Mr. Murray. The incident 
related in Mr. Whittemore's "Life of Rev. Hosea Ballou," 
suggests her earnest reverence for her husband's faith and 
opinions. Mr. Ballou had been preaching during Mr. 
Murray's absence, in Philadelphia, in 1798 or 1799, from 
the pulpit of the latter. On the last Sunday of his en- 
gagement he gave his views of 1 Cor. xv. 26-28, present- 
ing the evident doctrine of the text, that Christ is the 



INTRODUCTION. 



9 



Son who is to deliver up the kingdom to God the Father. 
Mrs. Murray, and Mr. Murray, too, believed, we think 
very absurdly, "that the Son who is to deliver up the 
kingdom to the Father was the 4 Son of perdition,' and 
that God would finally succeed in getting the kingdom out 
of his hands." Through Mrs. Murray's suggestion, "Just 
as Mr. Ballou arose to announce the hymn," a gentleman 
announced from the singing-seats "in substance as fol- 
lows : 6 1 wish to give notice that the doctrine which has 
been preached here this afternoon is not the doctrine which 
is usually preached in this house/ " Mr. Ballou's reply, 
young as he was, was characteristically calm : " The 
audience will please to take notice of what our brother 
has said;" and he proceeded to close the services. Mrs. 
Murray may have been, as Mr. Whittemore says, " an 
uneasy spirit ; " but we confess we respect her conjugal 
consideration and her spiritual earnestness, if not her 
uneasiness. 

We have before us a work in three volumes, bearing the 
imprint, " Printed at Boston, by I. Thomas and E. T. An- 
drews, Faust's Statue, No. 45 Newbury Street, February, 
1798," entitled " The Gleaner : a Miscellaneous Produc- 
tion, by Constantia." The volumes are a collection of 
essays, a portion of which were first contributed to a 
monthly magazine, and for the purpose of this publica- 
tion were supplemented by essays of like character. " Con- 
stantia" was Mrs. Murray. Her volumes were published 
hj subscription ; and after the method of the last century 
the names of subscribers appear as an appendix to the last 
volume. Mrs. Murray had evidently acquired reputation 
by her published essays ; for the number of subscribers ob- 
tained before publication exceeds eight hundred. These 



10 



IX TH OD UCTIOX. 



include many notable names: "George Washington, late 
Commander-in-Chief of the American Forces, and President 
of the United States, Mount Vernon (Virg.)," with Mrs. 
M. Washington; u John Adams, LL.D., President of the 
United States ; " Increase Sumner, Governor of Massachu- 
setts ; John Ta} T lor Gilman, Governor of New Hampshire ; 
Gen. Knox ; Gen. Lincoln ; Rev. Dr. Belknap, Dr. Clarke, 
Dr. Eliot, Mr. Freeman, Dr. Howard, Mr. Kirkland, Dr. 
Lathrop, Dr. Morse, Dr. Thatcher, and other clergymen ; 
" Capt, W. H. Harrison, N. W. Territory ; " and others 
prominent not only in their day, but leaving some trace 
upon the history of our land. Mrs. Murray's style par- 
takes of the peculiarities of the time in which she wrote ; 
but she exhibits both thought and descriptive power and 
grace. With some magniloquence is combined an attrac- 
tive smoothness, which even now makes the reading pleas- 
ant. We meet suggestions, in advance of the day, as to 
imprisonment for debt, the equal capabilities of the sexes, 
etc. 

The fact may be interesting, in addition to that stated 
above, concerning the descendants of Mr. and Mrs. Murray, 
that Mr. Winthrop Sargent, of Philadelphia, is a grandson 
of Mrs. Murray's father, and consequently her nephew ; 
while Dr. Worcester, of Salem, is, through his mother, 
Capt. Sargent's great grandson. Mrs. Sargent, Mrs. Mur- 
ray's mother, died in July, 1793 ; Capt. Sargent, in Decem- 
ber of the same year. 

With reference to the autobiographical portion of this 
volume, Mr. Whittemore aptly says : " In perusing the 
following pages v the reader should bear continually in rec- 
ollection, that Mr. Murra}' was a man of warm and ardent 
mind, a rich and glowing fancy, and of a heart of stern 



INTRODUCTION. 



11 



integrity. These circumstances will serve to account for 
whatever there is in this work of a marvellous character. 
It cannot be more truly said of any man than of him, that 
he saw the hand of God in all the events of his life ; and 
whatever occurred in his course of a wonderful nature, his 
firm belief in the divine supervision of human affairs led 
him to regard at once as a particular providence." It was 
this faith which led Mr. Murray so long to resist the im- 
portunity of his Gloucester friends to settle with them as a 
parish minister. He deemed his duty to be that of a mis- 
sionary, and his living to be that which came to him, not 
by specific agreement, but by offerings of free-will. It is 
matter of thankfulness that his first impression of duty was 
overruled by providential circumstances. Thus he became 
the father because the organizer of Universalism in Amer- 
ica ; and thus the year 1870, one hundred years from the 
era of Mr. Murray's advent to the United States, becomes 
its centenary. 

There were traces of Universalism already in the coun- 
try. Some, perhaps most, of his early colleagues, received 
their opinions independently of him. But the societies 
which formed the nucleus of the Universalist denomination 
were organized and knit together by him. His spirit of 
fraternity pervaded them, and his apostolic manner and 
his fervid eloquence inspired them with courage and faith. 
Rev. Robert Redding, one of his English friends, and a 
Baptist minister in Cornwall, thus wrote, in 1788, concern- 
ing the impression made by his preaching : "I have been 
favored the past week with a visit from a Mr. Murray, of 
the United States of America. In person, of the middling 
height, with a speaking countenance and masculine feat- 
ures, naturally rough and stern. His mind truly great and 



12 



INTRODUCTION, 



noble, stored with good sense. He has a poetical imagina- 
tion, a retentive memory, warm affections, a love for all 
mankind, but in a particular manner for those who are of a 
sincerely religious turn of mind. In his public discourses 
he displayed no art or affectation. He opened the Scriptures 
in their natural order, or without any formal scholastic 
division. He delivered his discourses with great grace of 
oratory, but not without something theatrical in his man- 
ner. He varied the tone of his voice, and was able, in a 
certain degree, to personate, and thus second his descrip- 
tion of any character. He had an astonishing volubility, a 
very good choice of words, a great variety of expression, 
and adorned his sermons with quotations from flowery and 
apposite lines of the poets. He excited the passions, and 
fixed the attention of his audience to such a degree that 
he could arouse and animate them at pleasure, or depress 
them, with a peculiarly soft eloquence, even to tears. Yet 
with all this power and superior qualification for the pulpit, 
he seemed at times to forget the plainest rules of grammar. 
He had no accurate mode of arranging his thoughts. 
Sometimes he became low, and even puerile in expression, 
as well as fanciful in his mode of treating the Scriptures, | 
turning them from their received meaning, and dealing too 
much in allegorical illustrations. Yet, with all this, I never 
yet met with any one in the pulpit, who so very soon car- 
ried awa}' my feelings." 

Rev. Nathaniel Stacy, not long since deceased, full of 
years and of goodness, was present at the session of the 
General Convention of 1804, in Sturbridge, and there 
heard Mr. Murray deliver two discourses. He says : " It j 
was interesting, indeed, to me, to see and hear Mr. Mur- 
ray. I had heard my parents often speak of him after they j 



INTRODUCTION. 



18 



boldly avowed their faith in Universalism, and describe 
the manner of his preaching, and I had imbibed a high ven- 
eration for the man, and had a strong desire to hear the 
word of truth from his lips ; nor were my anticipations dis- 
appointed. His manner, to me, was pleasing, and his elo- 
quence captivating. He appeared to possess a perfect 
government over his own passions ; riveted the attention 
of his hearers ; carried them with him through his whole 
discourse, and made them feel the sensibilities of his own 
soul ; would bring tears into their eyes, or excite their 
risibility, with as much ease as the words flowed from his 
opening lips." 

Mr. Murray's peculiar opinions were not of a character to 
secure a permanent hold of the public mind, or largely to 
affect a thinking people. They are sufficiently outlined by 
Mrs. Murray, in her last chapter. They were shared 
among preachers, as she concedes, at the time of her hus- 
band's death, only by Rev. John Tyler, Episcopal minister 
in Norwich, Conn., and Rev. Edward Mitchell, of the city 
of New York. It is probable that no living man or woman 
now entertains them, in their wholeness. But the doctrine 
of the Father's universal love, the universality of Christian 
salvation, and the harmony of holiness and happiness, 
which he preached, has leavened the religious mind of the 
age. It has compelled recognition and respect where it 
has not found hospitality ; and while a large and growing 
body of Christians hold it fast as their watchword and con- 
fidence, it is modifying the opinions and softening the feel- 
ing of great numbers who do not profess faith in it. Mr. 
Hurray found in the country two or three separated preach- 
ers of the Universal Restoration ; in 1813, just before his 
death, the records name forty ministers as in the fellowship 



INTRODUCTION. 



of the denomination of Universalists. Of the forty, there i 
survives only the venerable Russell Streeter. The rest 
have departed ; but the number of preachers of the univer- 
sal efficacy of the mission of Christ has increased to five 
hundred and ninety -two. These, with various success, con- 
tinue to proclaim the glad tidings of universal grace ; and 
the recent evidences of generous zeal in the eudowment of 
educational institutions, and in contributions for mission- 
ary work, warrant large confidence in the future of this 
branch of the church of Christ. We indulge the fervent 
hope that the Centenary of American Universalism will 
witness a liberal offering, in testimony of thanksgiving for 
the inspiration which called John Murray to be the apostle 
of truth, and has breathed upon the land through his col- 
leagues and successors. G. L. D. 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



CHAPTER I. 

CONTAINING AN ACCOUNT OP THE AUTHORS BIRTH AND PARENT- 
AGE UNTIL THE DECEASE OP HIS FATHER. 

How sweetly rolled over the morning of life ! 
How free from vexation, from sorrow and strife I 
Kind nature presented rich scenes to my view, 
And every scene she presented was new. 

But soon was the morning of life clouded o'er, 
And its charming serenity lost ; 

Too soon was I forced to abandon the shore, 
And on ocean's rude billows be tost. 

Your earnest solicitations, my inestimable, my best friend, 
have, with me, the force of commands, and consequently I 
am irresistibly compelled to retrace, for your gratification, 
as many of the incidents of early life as live in my memory. 
Assured of your indulgence, I unhesitatingly commit to your 
candor and to your discretion the following sheets. 

I am induced to regret that my anecdotes of this charm- 
ing season are not more multiplied. Were my recollection 
perfect, my enjoyments would be reiterated ; but this would 
not be right, therefore it is not so. Every season has its 
enjoyments, and the God of nature has thought proper to 
keep them distinct and appropriate. 

I think, if I mistake not, I was ushered into this state 

15 



16 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



of being on the 10th day of December, in the year of our 
Lord 1741, four years before the rebellion in Scotland, of 
'45. I mention this circumstance, as it proved to me, in 
early life, a source of some vexation. The rebellion termi- 
nated in the destruction of many of the Scotch nobility of 
my name ; and this same rebellion was long the subject of 
political controversy, which generally terminated in the exe- 
cration of the Scots, and, on account of my name, I was 
looked upon as a party concerned. 

I drew my first breath in the island of Great Britain, in 
the town of Alton, in Hampshire. This town boasts a church, 
a Presbyterian and a Quaker meeting-house, a celebrated 
free school, an extensive and very useful manufacture, and 
it is environed by a plantation of hops. Alton is seated on 
the River Wey, eighteen miles east-north-east of South- 
Hampton, and forty-eight miles west-south-west of London. 

Being the first-born of my parents, it is not wonderful 
that my appearance gave much joy, nor that the little com- 
plaints incident to infancy gave great apprehension. It 
was in consequence of some little indisposition that they 
solicited and obtained for me private baptism. My parents 
were both sincerely religious, though members of different 
sects. My father was an Episcopalian, my mother a Pres- 
byterian ; yet religion never disturbed the harmony of the 
family. My mother believed, as most good women then be- 
lieved, that husbands ought to have the direction, especially 
in concerns of such vast importance as to involve the future 
well-being of their children ; and of course it was agreed 
that I should receive from the hands of an Episcopalian 
minister the rite of private baptism ; and as this ordinance, 
in this private manner, is not administered, except the 
infant is supposed in danger of going out of the world in an 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



17 



unregenerate state, before it can be brought to the church, 
I take for granted I was, by my apprehensive parents, be- 
lieved in imminent danger ; yet, through succeeding years, 
I seemed almost exempt from the casualties of childhood. 
I am told that my parents and grandparents had much 
joy in me ; that I never broke their rest nor disturbed their 
repose, not even in weaning ; that I was a healthy, good-hu- 
mored child, of a ruddy complexion, and that the equality 
of my disposition became proverbial. I found the use of 
my feet before I had completed my first year ; but the gift 
of utterance was still postponed. I was hardly two years 
old, when I had a sister born ; this sister was presented at 
the baptismal font, and, according to the custom in our 
church, I was carried to be received; that is, all who are 
privately baptized, must, if they live, be publicly received 
in the congregation. The priest took me in his arms, and, 
having pra}^ed, according to the form made use of on such 
occasions, I articulated with an audible voice Amen. The 
congregation were astonished, and I have frequently heard 
my parents say this was the first word I ever uttered, and 
that a long time elapsed before I could distinctly articu- 
late any other. Indulged, as I said, by bounteous nature 
with much serenity of mind, every one was happy with me. 
I was fond of being abroad, and a servant was generally 
employed to gratify me. During these repeated rambles I 
experienced some "hair-breadth 'scapes," which, while they 
excited the wonder of my good parents, they failed not to 
record. From these frequent promenades I derived that 
vigorous constitution, or at least its stabilit} r , which has 
prolonged my abode in this vale of tears, through many 
serious disorders which have seemed to promise my eman- 
cipation. I do not remember the time when I did not 
2 



18 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



behold the works of nature with delight, — such as the 
drapery of the heavens, and the flowers of the garclen«and 
the fields ; and I perfectly recollect, before I was clothed in 
masculine habiliments, that I was delightedly occupied in 
opening the ground, throwing it into some form, and 
planting, in regular order, little sprigs broken from the 
gooseberry or currant bushes. My pleasures of this nature 
were, however, soon interrupted by going to school. This 
was nry first affliction ; yet, to imperious necessity, the sweet 
pliability of human nature soon conformed my mind ; na} T , 
it was more than conformed. I derived even felicity, from 
the approbation of my school-dame, from the pictures in my 
books, and especially from the acquaintance I formed with 
my school-mates. 

It does not appear to me that I was what the world calls 
naturally vicious. I was neither querulous, nor quarrel- 
some ; I cannot trace in my mind a vestige of envy. I 
rejoiced in every advantage possessed by my little comrades, 
and my father was accustomed to exclaim, u Never, I be- 
lieve, was such a boy ; he absolutely delights as much in the 
new garments worn by the children of our neighbors, as in 
his own ; 99 and, indeed, as far as I can recollect during this 
sweet morning of life, my most complete satisfaction re- 
sulted from the gratification of others. I never enjoyed 
anything alone; my earliest pleasures were social, and I 
was eager to reciprocate every good office. It is true T en- 
countered difficulties from the various dispositions of those 
with whom I associated ; but, in my infant bosom, rancor or* 
implacability found no place. Being, however, too fond of 
play, and ambitious of imitating nry seniors, I had little 
time for reading ; yet I learned, and at six years old could 
read a chapter in the Bible, not indeed very correctly, but 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



Yd 



I rarely paused at a word ; however difficult, still I read on. 
My father, I remember, used sometimes to laugh out, — a 
levity which, by the way, he seldom indulged, — but he did 
sometimes laugh out, and say, " This boj r sticks at nothing ; 
he has a most astonishing invention ; how it is he utters 
such sounds, and passes on with such rapidity, I cannot 
conceive." But my blunders were more frequently marked 
by a staggering box on the ear, which necessitated me to 
stop, when I was obliged to recommence, and go over the 
whole again. This conduct originated, even at this early 
age, more fear than affection for my father. I was studious 
to avoid his presence, and I richly enjoyed his absence. To 
my brothers and sisters, who were multiplied with uncom- 
mon rapidity, I was warmly attached ; and as our mother 
contributed all in her power to our gratification, our pleas- 
ures were not surpassed by those of any little group which 
came under our observation. 

My parents were the religious children of religious parents 
and grandparents ; they were the more religious on that ac- 
count ; and, as the descendants of ancient noble families 
value themselves on their pedigree, stimulating their chil- 
dren from considerations of ancestry to act up to the 
illustrious examples which they exhibit and emblazon, uni- 
formly insisting that they shall avoid mixing with the ple- 
beian race ; so, as soon as I appeared to pay attention to 
interesting tales, I was made acquainted with the characters 
of 1113'' grandparents. 

My paternal grandfather, however, possessed only nega- 
tive religion ; that is, his affection for my grandmother 
obliged him to conform to her in everything ; and he esteemed 
himself happy, in being blest with a wife, who, from principle 
and inclination, was both able and willing to take upon her- 



20 LIFE OF BEY, JOHN MUBBAY, 

self the care and culture of her children. How long this 
grandfather lived I am unable to say ; but my grandmother 
was, with respect to her religious attachments, more fortu- 
nate in a second marriage. She was united to a Mr, 
Beattie, a man of considerable note in every point of view. 
It was by this gentleman's name I became acquainted with 
my grandmother, I remember, when very young, to have 
seen his picture, which gave me a very high idea of his 
person. It was his son who was governor of the fortress- 
in the harbor of Cork. My grandmother soon lost this 
second husband, and never married again. She was, in the 
morning and meridian of her life, a celebrated beauty ; the 
remains of a fine face were visible when I knew her. I never 
beheld a more beautiful old lady, Traces of affluence were 
conspicuous in her dwelling,, her furniture, and apparel. She 
was an immediate descendant of an ancient and honorable 
family in France ; her father's name was Barroux, one of 
the noblesse, and a dweller in the town of Paimboeuf, on the 
River Loire, between the city of Nantes and the mouth of 
said river. Mr. Barroux, having buried his lady T who left 
him two daughters, thought proper, as was then the custom, 
of people of distinction, to educate his eldest daughter in 
England. This step banished her from her native country 
and from her father ; she never saw either more. Attaching 
herself to a family of Episcopalians, she became a zealous 
Protestant, which, together with her selecting a husband of 
the same persuasion, confirmed her an exile forever. The 
irritated feeling of her father admitted no appeal ; his affec- 
tions were totally alienated. He was a high-spirited., 
obstinate man, and he swore, in his wrath, he would wed the 
first woman he met, provided he could obtain her consent,, 
and she was not absolutely disgusting The first who pre- 



LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 



21 



sented happened to be his chambermaid. He made known to 
her his vow, was accepted with gratitude, and they were 
speedily married. Not many years after this event, the old 
gentleman died, leaving no issue by his second marriage ; 
and, as he left no will, his daughter, who continued under 
the paternal roof, entered into possession of the whole 
estate. She, however, survived her father only three weeks, 
when my grandmother became the only legal heir to the 
propert} T , both of her father and her sister. 

A large share of the personal estate was conveyed to 
England by two priests ; and the real estate was tendered 
to my grandmother, on condition that she would read 
her recantation, renounce the damnable doctrines of the 
Church of England, and receive the Host, as the real 
presence. My grandmother and my father, after a con- 
ference which continued but a few moments, cheerfully 
concurred in a relinquishment of the estate, and united in 
declaring, that, on terms so calculated to prostrate their 
integrity, they would not accept the whole kingdom of 
France. The clerg}^men returned to the Gallic shore, and 
the person left in the house, for the purpose of taking- 
charge of the estate until the heirs-at-law should recover 
their senses, continued in the quiet possession of an in- 
heritance worth five hundred pounds sterling per annum. 
When the estate was thus, upon religious principles, 
surrendered, I was about five years of age ; but having 
frequently heard my father circumstantially relate the 
transaction, as I advanced in life my bosom often ac- 
knowledged a latent wish that he had accepted an inherit- 
ance, to which his natural claim was indubitable, upon the 
terms offered by the ecclesiastics, which were, that my 
grandmother and my father should, in so many words, 



22 



LIFE OF KEV. JO FIX MURE AY, 



qualify themselves for the possession of their right, while, 
in their hearts, they continued to judge for themselves. 
But from a, conduct so questionable, the guileless heart of 
my upright parent spontaneously revolted ; and, for my- 
self, while revolving years gave me to exult in his decis- 
ion, the detection of so reprehensible a principle in my 
own bosom, and at so early a period, originated much con- 
trition. Yet, notwithstanding the very considerable sac- 
rifice made by my father, his uniform efforts commanded 
all the necessaries and many of the elegancies of life. 
His children multiplied ; four sons and five daughters 
augmented his felicities. He received from nature a 
strong mind ; his parents bestowed upon him a good 
education, and he was universally respected and beloved. 

The parents of my mother were well known to me. 
Her father's name was James Eolt ; his ancestors were all 
English. He was in early life a bon-vivant^ and even 
when he became the head of a family his reprehensible 
pursuits were nothing diminished. The silent sufferings of 
his wedded companion were strongly expressed in her wan 
countenance and broken health. The circumstances of his 
conversion from dissipation to a life of severe pietj- were 
rather remarkable, and were considered in his day as 
miraculous. 

Of the piety of my paternal grandfather, or my mater- 
nal grandmother, I have little to say. I have never heard 
that they allowed themselves in any improper indulgences ; 
and as they were the admirers of their devout companions, 
it is a fair conclusion that the}' were at least negatively 
pious, and that, if they did not lead, they cheerfully fol- 
lowed, in cultivating a pious disposition in the minds of 
their children ; and, by consequence, religion became the 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



23 



legitimate inheritance of my immediate parents. The 
conversion of my paternal grandmother from the tenets in 
which she was educated increased her zeal, while the in- 
heritance sacrificed from conscientious principles gave 
her to consider herself more especially heir of an inheri- 
tance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away ; 
and, conscious that she had fully concurred with my father 
in depriving their children of a temporal treasure, they 
were sedulously anxious to inculcate a persuasion of the 
necessity of securing another. 

It is wonderful that, while it was the great business, 
both of my father and mother, to render their children 
feelingly solicitous to secure an interest in the Redeemer, 
that they might be thus entitled to a blessed and happy 
futurity, they were both of them very rigid Calvinists. 

The doctrines taught by that gloomy reformer they 
undeviatingly taught to their family ; and hence my soul 
frequently experienced the extreme of agony. Naturally 
vivacious, to implant religion among my juvenile pleas- 
ures required the most vigorous and uniform effort. 
Religion was not a native of the soil ; it was an exotic, 
which, when planted, could only be kept alive by the most 
persevering attention. Hence religion became a subject 
of terror. I was not ten years old when I began to suffer. 
The discovery of my sufferings gave my fond father much 
pleasure ; he cherished hope of me when he found me 
suffering from nry fears ; and much indeed was I tortured 
by the severe, unbending discipline of my father, and the 
terrifying apprehensions of what I had to expect from the 
God who created me. The second son of my parents was 
naturally of a pensive, gloonry disposition. He was more 
piousty disposed, and less fond of amusement than nvy- 



24 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



self; and hearing innch of Cain as the eldest son of Adam, 
of Esau as the eldest son of Isaac, and of Abel and Jacob 
as the 3'Oimger sons, my soul was frequently filled with 
terror, verity believing my brother was the elected, and 
myself the rejected, of God. This appalling consideration, 
even at this early period, frequently devoted my days and 
nights to tears and lamentation. But stability dwelt not 
with me, and the pleasing expectations of my father were 
often blasted my attachment to my pla}mmtes and their 
childish gambols revived ; and, when engaged in appropri- 
ate amusements, I often forgot the immediate terror of the 
rod, and of future misery, both of which, as often as I re- 
flected, J painfully believed I should endure. My father 
took every method to confine me within his walls ; it was 
with difficulty he prevailed upon himself to permit my 
attendance at school, yet this was necessary, and to school 
I must go ; while that rigid and extreme vigilance, which 
was ever upon the alert, produced effects diametrical ly 
opposite to the end proposed. My appetite for pleasure 
increased, and I occasionally preferred the truant frolic to 
the stated seasons of study, 3 T ea, though I was certain 
severe ca3tigation would be the consequence. Pious sup- 
plications were the accompaniments of the chastisements 
which were inflicted, so that I often passed from the terror 
of the rod to the terrifying apprehensions of future and 
never-ending misery. Upon these terrific occasions the 
most solemn resolutions were formed, and my vows were 
marked by floods of tears. I would no more offend either 
my father, or Jus God ; I dared not to say my God, for I 
had heard my father declare that for any individual, not 
the elect of God, to say of God, or to God, " Our 
Father," was nothing better than blasphemy ; when most 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



25 



devout, I was prevented from deriving consolation from 
my pious breathings, by a persuasion that I was a repro- 
bate, predestined to eternal perdition. In fact, I believed 
that I had nothing to hope, but everything to fear, both 
from my Creator and my father ; and these soul-appalling 
considerations, by enforcing a conclusion that I was but 
making provision for alternate torture, threw a cloud over 
every innocent enjoyment. 

About the time that I attained my eleventh year (1751) 
my father removed to Ireland, and though I dreaded going 
with him anywhere, I was the only individual of the 
family whom he compelled to accompany him. Yet I was 
captivated by the charms of novelty. London filled me 
with amazement ; and my fond, my apprehensive father 
was in continual dread of losing me ; while the severity he 
practised to detain me near him, hy invigorating my 
desires to escape from his presence, increased the evil. 

We quitted London in the middle of April, and, reach- 
ing Bristol, tarried but a little while in that city. At Pill, 
five miles from Bristol, between my father and nryself a 
final separation was on the point of taking place. In the 
Bristol River the tide is extremely rapid. I stepped into 
a boat on the slip, and, letting it loose, the force of the 
current almost instantly carried it off into the channel, 
and had it been ebb instead of flood tide I must inevitably 
have gone out to sea, and most probably should never 
have been heard of more ; but the flood tide carried me 
with great rapidity up the river, and the only fear I ex- 
perienced was from the effects of my father's indignation. 
The poor gentleman and a number of compassionate 
individuals were engaged, until almost twelve o'clock, in 
searching the town, and the harbor, and had returned 



2G 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



home relinquishing every hope of my restoration. In the 
midst of the stream I found a large flat-bottomed boat at 
anchor, to which, making fast the boat I was in, I conse- 
quently proceeded no farther. At midnight, I heard 
voices on the side of the river, when, earnestly imploring 
their aid, and offering a liberal reward, they came in their 
boat, and, conveying me on shore, conducted me to my 
lodgings. But no language can describe my dismay, as I 
drew near my father, who was immediately preparing to 
administer the deserved chastisement, when the benevolent 
hostess interposed, and in pity-moving accents exclaimed, 
" Oh, for God's sake let the poor Blood alone ; I warrant 
he has suffered enough already." My father was softened ; 
perhaps he was not displeased to find a pretence for mild- 
ness ; he gave me no correction for this offence ; he even 
treated me with unusual kindness. We were detained in 
Pill three weeks, wishing for a favorable wind ; three 
weeks more at Minehead, and three weeks at Milford 
Haven. Thus we were nine weeks in performing a pas- 
sage which is commonly made in forty-eight hours ; and 
instead of my father's reaching Cork before the residue of 
his family they were there almost at the moment of our 
arrival. In Cork we were at home. There dwelt the 
respected mother of my father, and in eas} T circumstances ; 
many changes, however, had taken place in her family, 
although the remains of affluence were still visible. My 
father fixed his residence in the vicinity of this city, and a 
most pleasing residence it proved. 

About this time the Methodists made their appearance, 
and my father was among the first who espoused their 
cause. His zeal for vital religion could hardly be sur- 
passed ; and it appeared to him that this innate and holy 



LIFE OF REV. JO TIN MURRAY. 



27 



operation, rejected by every other sect, had found refuge 
in the bosoms of these exemplary people. But, though 
my father espoused the cause, he did not immediately 
become a Methodist ; the Methodists were not Calvinists. 
Yet, if possible, he doubled his diligence ; he kept his 
family more strict than ever ; he was distinguished by the 
name of saint, and became the only person in his vicinity 
whom the Methodists acknowledged as truly pious. With 
the religion of the Methodists I was greatty enamored ; 
they preached often, and in the streets ; they had private 
societies of .young people, and sweet singing, and a vast 
deal of it, and an amazing variety of tunes, — and all 
this was beyond expression charming. At this period the 
health of my father began to decline. Physicians con- 
curred in opinion that his complaints indicated a pulmo- 
nary affection. Again his efforts were renewed and invig- 
orated, and, poor gentleman, his labors were abundantly 
multiplied. The ardent desire of his soul was to render 
every individual of his family actively religious, and relig- 
ious in his own way ; but as his children necessarity 
mingled more or less with the children in the neighbor- 
hood, they caught words and habits which he disliked,, and 
application was made to the rod as a sovereign panacea. 

In the course of my twelfth } T ear my father was over- 
taken b} r a very heavy calamity : his house, and indeed 
almost eveiything he possessed, were laid in ashes. He 
had only a moment to snatch to his bosom a sleeping in- 
fant from its cradle, when a part of the house fell in ; an 
instant longer, and they would both have been wrapped in 
the surrounding flames ; and a deep sense of this pre- 
serving mercy accompanied him to his grave. Thus every 
event of his life seemed to combine to render his devotions 



28 



LIFE OF REV. JOJ7X MURRAY. 



more and more fervent. It was happy for ns that my 
respectable grandmother still lived, whose extricating hand 
was an ever reacty resource. 

It was my father's constant practice, so long as his health 
would permit, toqnit his bed, winter as well as summer, at 
four o'clock in the morning, A large portion of this time, 
thus redeemed from sleep, was devoted to private praj^ers 
and meditations. At six o'clock the family were sum- 
moned, and I, as the eldest son, was ordered into my closet, 
for the purpose of private devotion. My father, however, 
did not go with me, and I did not always pray. I was not 
always in a praying frame; but the deceit, which I was 
thus reduced to the necessity of practising, was an addi- 
tional torture to my laboring mind. After the family were 
collected, it was my part to read a chapter in the Bible ; 
then followed a long and fervent prayer by my father ; 
breakfast succeeded, when, the children being sent to 
school, the business of the commenced. In the course 
of the day my father, as I believed, never omitted his pri- 
vate devotions, and in the evening the whole family were 
again collected, the children examined, our faults recorded, 
and I-, as an example to the rest, especially chastised . My 
father rarely passed by an offence without marking it by 
such punishment as his sense of doty awarded ; and when 
my tearful mother interceded for me, he would respond to 
her entreaties in the language of Solomon, " If thou beat 
Mm with a rod, he shall not die." The Bible was again in- 
troduced, and the day was closed by prayer. Sunday was 
a day much to be dreaded in our family. We were all 
.awakened at early dawn, private devotions attended, break- 
fast hastily dismissed, shutters closed, no light but from 
the back part of the house ; no noise could bring any part 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



29 



of the family to the window ; not a syllable was uttered 
upon secular affairs. Eveiy one who could read, children 
and domestics, had their allotted chapters. Family praj^er 
succeeded ; after which, Baxter's " Saints' Everlasting 
Kest " was assigned to me ; my mother all the time in ter- 
ror lest the children should be an interruption. At last the 
bell summoned us to church, whither in solemn order we 
proceeded, — I close to my father, who admonished me to 
look straight forward, and not let my eyes wander after 
vanity. At church I was fixed at his elbow, compelled to 
kneel when he kneeled, to stand when he stood, to find the 
Psalm, Epistle, Gospel, and collects for the day ; and any 
instance of inattention was vigilantly marked, and unre- 
lentingly punished. When I returned from church I was 
ordered to my closet ; and when I came forth, the chapter 
from which the preacher had taken his text was read, and 
I was then questioned respecting the sermon, a part of 
which I could generally repeat. Dinner, as breakfast, was 
taken in silent haste, after which we were not suffered to 
walk, even in the garden, but every one must either read 
or hear reading until the bell gave the signal for afternoon 
service, from which we returned to private devotion, to 
reading, to catechizing, to examination, and long family 
prayer, which closed the most laborious da}^ of the week. 
It' was the custom for many of our visiting friends to unite 
with us in these evening exercises, to the no small gratifica- 
tion of my father. It is true, especially after he became an 
invalid, he was often extremely fatigued ; but, upon these 
occasions, the more lie suffered, the more he rejoiced, since 
his reward would be the greater ; and indeed his sufferings, 
of every description, were to him a never-failing source of 
consolation. In fact, this devotional life became to him 



BO 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



second nature ; but it was not so to his family. For my- 
self, I was alternately serious and wild, but never yet very 
moderate in anything. My father rejoiced in my devotional 
frames, and was encouraged to proceed, as occasion was- 
given, in the good work of whipping, admonishing, and 
praj'ing. I continued to repeat my pious resolutions, and, 
still more to bind my soul, I once vowed a vow unto the 
Lord, — kissing the book for the purpose of adding to its- 
solemnity, — that I would no more visit the pleasure- 
grounds, nor again associate with those boys who had been 
my companions, Almost immediately after this transac- 
tion I attended a thundering preacher, who, taking for his- 
text that command of our Saviour which directs his disci- 
ples to u -swear not at oil" gave me to believe I had com- 
mitted a most heinous transgression in the oath that I had 
taken, Nay, he went so far as to assure his hearers, that to- 
say iL Upon my ivord" was an oath, a very horrid oath, since 
it was tantamount to swearing by Jesus Christ, inasmuch 
as he was the Word, who was made flesh for us, and dwelt 
anions; us. This sermon rendered me for a low* season 
truly wretched, while I had no individual to whom I could 
confide my distresses. To my father I dared not even name 
my secret afflictions ; and my mother, as far as the tender- 
ness of her nature would permit, was in? Strict unison with 
her venerated husband. The depression of my spirits upon 
this occasion was great and enduring ; but for revolving 
months I continued what they called a good bo} T . I was 
attentive to my book, carefully following the directions- 
that were given me, and on my return from school, instead 
of squandering the hours of intermission with idle associ- 
ates, I immediately retired to the garden, which constituted 
one of the first pleasures of my life ~ in fact, the cultivation 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MUItRAY. 



61 



of fruits and flowers has in every period of my existence 
continued to me a prime source of enjoyment. My pater- 
nal grandmother was the Lady Bountiful of the parish ; 
having made it her study, she became an adept in the dis- 
tillation of simples ; she had a large garden adjoining to my 
father's, and she cultivated an amazing variety of plants. 
As I was her favorite assistant, she gradually obtained my 
father's permission that I should appropriate to her a large 
part of my time ; and the hours which I consequently 
devoted to this venerable lady in her garden and in her 
habitation were to me halcyon hours. It was my study to 
enrich her grounds with every choice herb or flower which 
met my gaze, and I was ever on the alert to collect plants 
of the most rare description. This was confessedly an 
innocent amusement ; it would bear reflection, and was 
therefore delightful. Alas ! alas ! it was too replete with 
felicity to be continued. I was soon compelled to relin- 
quish my pleasant occupation. My father found it neces- 
sary to remove from the neighborhood of his mother, and 
her garden no more bloomed for me. 

We were speedily established in the vicinity of a noble- 
man's seat, in which was instituted an academy of high rep- 
utation. It was under the direction of an Episcopalian 
clerg}^man, who, being well acquainted with and much at- 
tached to my father, had frequent opportunities of hearing 
me recite many chapters from the Bible, which I had com" 
mitted to memory, and, becoming fond of me, he earnestly 
importuned my father to surrender me up to his care. " He 
shall live in my family," said he ; " he shall be unto me as a 
son. I will instruct him, and, when opportunity offers, he 
shall become a member of the University. He has a prodig- 
ious memory ; his understanding needs only to be opened, 



32 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY . 



when he will make the most rapid progress." But my father, 
trembling for my spiritual interest if removed from his 
guardian care, returned to this liberal proposal the most un- 
qualified negative, and my writing-master immediately 
sought and obtained the situation for his son, who was about 
my age. In this academy many noblemen's sons were qual- 
ified for Trinity College, Dublin ; and in a few years one of 
those ennobled students selected my fortunate school-mate 
as a companion. He passed through Trinity College, and re- 
ceived its honors ; from which period I never again beheld 
him until I saw him in a pulpit in the cit} r of London. 

Though my social propensities at every period of my life 
greatly predominated, yet the close attention paid me b}^my 
father greatly abridged every enjoyment of this description. 
Yet I did form one dear connexion, with whom I held sweet 
converse. But of the society of this dear youth I was soon 
deprived. Recalled by his family, he was to leave town upon 
a Sunday morning, and instead of going to church I took my 
way to his lodgings for the purpose of bidding him a last 
farewell. The ill-health of my father prevented him from 
attending church on that clay, but tidings of my delinquency 
were conveyed to him by a gentleman of his acquaintance, 
and my punishment as I then believed was more than pro- 
portioned to my fault. Still, however, I had sufficient 
hardihood to run great hazards. A review of several regi- 
ments of soldiers was announced. I could not obtain leave 
to be present, yet, for the purpose of witnessing a sight so 
novel, I was determined to take the day to m3 r self. I suf- 
fered much through the da} 7 from hunger, and I anticipated 
my reception at home. In the evening, I stopped at a little 
hut, where the homely supper smoked upon a frugal board. 
The cottagers had the goodness to press me to partake with 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



33 



them. My heart blessed them. I should, like Esau, have 
given my birthright, had it been mine to bestow, for this 
entertainment ; but, blessings on the hospitable inhabitants 
of this island, they make no demands either upon friend 
or stranger ; every individual is welcome to whatever 
sustenance either their houses or their huts afford. I sat 
down, and I ate the sweetest meal I ever ate in my life, the 
pleasure of which I have never yet forgotten, although 
the paternal chastisement which followed was uncom- 
monly severe. 

The time now approached when it was judged necessary 
I should engage in some business, by which I might secure 
the necessaries of life. The conscience of my father had 
deprived me of an estate and of a collegiate education, and 
it was incumbent upon him to make some provision for me. 
But what was to be done ? If he sent me abroad, I should 
most unquestionably contract bad habits. Well, then, he 
would bring me up himself; but this was very difficult. He 
had for some time thrown up business, and new expenses 
must be incurred. Finally, however, I commenced my new 
career, and under the eye of my painstaking father. I did 
not, however, like it ; yet I w T ent on well, and, dividing my 
attention between my occupation and my garden, I had lit- 
tle leisure. It was at this period I began once more to 
experience the powerful operation of religion, and secret 
devotion became my choice. Perhaps no one of age 
ever more potently felt the joys and sorrows of religion. 
The Methodists had followed us to our new situation, and 
they made much noise. They courted and obtained the at- 
tention of my father, and he now joined their society. They 
urged him to become a preacher, but his great humility, and 

his disbelief of Arminianism, were insuperable bars. He 
3 



34 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



was nevertheless a powerful assistant to the Methodists. 
Mr. John Wesley was a great admirer of rny father, and he 
distinguished him beyond any individual in the society, per- 
severingly urging him to become the leader of a class, and 
to meet the societ}' in the absence of their preachers ; to all 
which my father consented. I think I have before observed 
that I was devoted to the Methodists, and for the very reason 
that rendered my father apprehensive of them, — they were 
very social. The Methodists in this, as in every other 
place where they sojourned, by degrees established a per- 
manent residence. They first preached in the streets, prac- 
tised much self-denial and mortification, inveighed against 
the standing religion of the country as impious and hypo- 
critical, declaring the new birth only to be found among 
them. To this general rule, they, however, allowed my 
father to be an exception, and his open espousal of their 
cause contributed greatly to bringing them np. They gained 
many proselytes. It became the fashion for multitudes to 
become religious ; and it is in religion as in everything else, 
wliere once it is followed by a multitude, multitudes will 
follow. The very children became religious. A meeting- 
house was speedily obtained, a society was formed, and 
classes of every description regularly arranged. There was 
one class of boys ; it consisted of forty, and Mr. John Wes- 
ley appointed me their leader. Twice in the course of 
every week this class met in a private apartment. The busi- 
ness of the leader was to see that the members were all 
present ; for this purpose he was furnished with a list of 
their names, and when they were all assembled the leader 
began by singing a hymn. 

I was once pronounced a good singer, and, although I 
never had patience to learn music by note, I readily 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



35 



caught every ttfne I heard, and my notes were seldom 
false. I repeat, that I was delighted with the music intro- 
duced by the Methodists. I collected their most enchant- 
ing tunes, and, singing them frequently in my class, I 
obtained much applause. Prayer succeeded the hymn. I 
was accustomed to extemporary prayer. I had usually 
pra}^ed in sincerity, and my devotion upon these occasions 
was glowing and unfeigned. Examination followed the 
prayer. I examined every individual separately respecting 
the work of God upon his heart, and both the questions 
and responses evinced great simplicity and pious sincerity. 
A word of general advice next ensued, a second hymn 
was sung, and the whole concluded with prayer. This 
was a most delightful season both for my parents and my- 
self. I became the object of general attention ; my so- 
ciety was sought by the gray-headed man and the child. 
My experience was various and great ; in fact, I had ex- 
perienced more of what is denominated the work of God 
upon the heart than many, I had almost said than anj", of 
my seniors, my parents excepted. Devout persons pro- 
nounced that I was, by divine favor, destined to become a 
burning and a shining light; and from these flattering- 
appearances my father drew much consolation. I was 
frequently addressed, in his presence, as the child of much 
watching and earnest prayer. This, to my proudly pious 
parent, was not a little flattering ; it was then that I 
derived incalculable satisfaction from these very legible 
marks of election. And though the Methodists insisted 
that the doctrine of election before repentance and faith 
was a damnable doctrine, yet they admitted that, after the 
manifestation of extraordinary evidences, the individual 
so favored was unquestionably elected. Thus, by the 



36 



LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 



concurrent testimonies of Calvinists and Arminians, I was 
taught to consider myself as distinguished and chosen of 
God ; as certainly born again. Yet, as it was next to 
impossible to ascertain the moment of my new birth, I 
became seriously unhappy. But from this unhappiness I 
was rescued by reading accounts of holy and good men in 
similar circumstances. I now, therefore, lived a heaven 
upon earth, beloved, caressed, and admired. No longer 
shut up under my father's watchful care, I was allowed to 
go out every morning, at five o'clock, to the house of pub- 
lic worship ; there I hymned the praises of God, and 
united in fervent prayer with the children of the faithful. 
Meeting several of my young, admiring friends, we ex- 
changed experiences, we mingled our joys and our sor- 
rows, and, by this friendly intercourse, the first was 
increased, and the second diminished. In all our little 
meetings we were continually complaining to, and sooth- 
ing, each other, and these employments were truly delight- 
ful. The mind cannot be intentty occupied on contrary 
matters at the same time, and, my mind being filled with 
devotion, my waking and my sleeping moments were inva- 
riably engaged in religious pursuits. It was in truth my 
meat and my drink to do what I believed the will of my 
heavenly Father. At this period I should have been 
wrecked upon the sand-built foundation of self-righteous- 
ness, as many of my 3 r oung friends were, had it not been 
for the unbroken vigilance of an experienced and tender 
father. He saw the danger of too great elation, and he 
labored to keep me humble in my own estimation. " You 
now, my dear," said he, " think you know everything ; 
but when you really attain superior information you will 
be convinced you know nothing." This assertion ap- 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



37 



pearecl to me extremely paradoxical; but I have since 
learned to appreciate its rationality and its truth, I know 
not how long I proceeded in this delightful path ; nothing 
from within or without interrupted my course, and I well 
remember that I fancied nryself on the verge of perfection, 
I saw, or imagined 1 saw, undeviating rectitude within my 
grasp, I was conscious of no wishes but those which I 
considered the legitimate offspring of the religion I pro- 
fessed. I wondered what had become of ray evil propen- 
sities ; they were, however., gone, and I believed they 
would no more return. My days, my weeks, rolled on, 
uniformly devoted to pursuits which created for me unut- 
terable self-complacency. On Sunday morning I arose 
with the sun, and like our first parent in a state of inno- 
cence, — 

Straight towards heaven my wandering eyes I turned. 
And gazed av/hilo tho ampio sky." 

Thus, after a night of charmingly refreshing and undis- 
turbed repose, with spirits innocently gay, I arose, washed 
my face and hands, repeating a short supplication, which 
my father never on those occasions omitted: O Almighty 
God, who hath ordained this watery element for the use 
and support of nature, by which I am at this time re- 
freshed and cleansed, oh, purify my soul by the operation 
of thy blessed Spirit, as a well of water springing up unto 
everlasting life ! " I then retired to nry closet, offering the 
orisons of my gladdened heart, and habited for church. I 
sat down to my book until my father made his appearance, 
when, the family being summoned and the morning prayer 
ended, we breakfasted ; but it was a light repast and soon 
despatched. At eight o'clock I attended the Methodist 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURE AY. 



meeting ; at half-past nine, returned borne and devoted 
the time to reading until after ten, when the bell sum- 
moned me to church where the Methodists at that time 
attended. At church I was remarked for my devotion. 
From the church I returned to my closet, after which I 
read the Bible, responding to the interrogations of my 
father relative to the sermon by repeating it nearly verba- 
tim. Dinner over, I again retired to nry closet, from 
which, by my father's desire, I made my appearance to 
read for him some devotional book, until the bell again 
commanded my attendance upon public worship ; but, to 
my gr jat consolation, I had not when I returned home, as 
on Sunday sketched in a former page, to spend the residue 
of the day in saddening glooms. At five o'clock, the 
Methodist meeting again opened, to which the multitude 
flocked; there I saw, and there, witli affectionate admira- 
tion, I was seen ; there, when the terrors of law were 
exhibited, I was delighted by the assurance of eternal 
security therefrom ; and there, when the children of the 
Redeemer were addressed in the soothing and plausive 
strains of consolation, my heart throbbed with pleasure, 
and tears of transport copiously evinced the rapture of my 
soul. Society meeting succeeded the close of public ser- 
vice. Three classes of the people were denominated 
Methodists : the congregation, who, as outer-court wor- 
shippers, were only hearers and seelcers; members of the 
society, who were classed ; and members of the band 
society, who were genuine believers. The two latter met 
every Sunday evening after meeting, and no individual, 
who was not furnished with a ticket could gain admit- 
tance. This ticket was a badge of distinction ; it gave 
the possessor entrance ; all others were shut out and the 



LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 



39 



door was locked. No words can describe my sensations 
when I obtained a seat inside the closed door, when I 
listened while the preacher in a low voice addressed the 
children of God. The house was not unfrequently filled 
with the dissonant sounds of terror and joy, issuing from 
the discordant voices of those who were in the valley or 
on the mount. From this society I returned home, to 
unite m family devotion, repeat the fundamental points in 
my religion, retire to my private devotions, and then to 
bed. Monday morning I arose at five o'clock, and, after 
the same preparation as on Sunday, attended meeting, 
returned to breakfast, occupied myself with the business 
of the day until dinner; and after dinner an interval 
passed in private devotion to secular affairs again until 
evening ; then once more to the Methodist meeting, re- 
turned, attended family and private devotions and to my 
chamber, often not to rest, but to my book till midnight. 
Thus was my time spent, two evenings in the week ex- 
cepted, which were devoted to my class, and one night in 
the week, when the society assembled as on Sunday even- 
ing ; but, alas ! the fervor of spirit excited on those occa- 
sions cannot, in the nature of things, be very durable. 
There were individuals in my class who proved untoward ; 
they began to be weary in well-doing. This was a source 
of sorrow, the first I had experienced for a long time ; 
added to this, repeated complaints reached my ear, and 
not unfrequently slanderous reports, — reports one against 
another. This tortured me. I consulted the preachers. 
Disputes ran high ; the interposition of parents became in- 
dispensable, and the class was broken. This was a severe 
trial. I had derived high satisfaction from the connection, 
and from the fame which it had bestowed upon me. I, 



40 



LIFE OF EEV. JOHN MURE AT. 



however, lost no reputation ; it was generally believed I 
had performed my duty, and that no boy beside myself 
would have kept such a set of beings together and in sucb 
order so long. 

This was a season replete with events, which possessed; 
for me no common interest. Constantly in society, I formed 
many attachments, and I began to fear that the love of 
social enjoyments would, like Aaron^s rod, swallow up my 
best affections. From conviction of error, I sought retire- 
ment. I loved reading more than anything else; but I 
sighed for variety, and as the full soul loatheth the honey- 
comb I began to sicken at the constant repetition of devo- 
tional books. My father read history and some few novels 
but he took special care to secure those books from hi& 
children. We were allowed to read no books but the Bible ? 
and volumes based upon this precious depository of what- 
soever things are good and excellent. I sometimes, how- 
ever, glanced my eye over my father's shoulder, and find- 
ing " Tom Jones," or the History of a Foundling," in his. 
hand, the efforts at concealment, which he evidently made,, 
augmented my anxietyto read, I remember once to have 
found " Clarissa Harlow " upon his table. " Hervey's Med- 
itations," and u Young's Night Thoughts," were not inter- 
dicted books, and their plaintive sadness obtained an easy 
admission into the inmost recesses of my soul. To Milton> 
too, I gave some hours ; but I could not read blank verse ? 
nor did my father wish to encourage my attempts in this 
way. He saw I had too strong passion for novelty, and he 
deemed it prudent to check me in the commencement of my 
career. 

Although nay devotional ecstasies were diminished, yet I 
was steadily attentive to my religions exercises, and I he- 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



41 



lieved myself daily increasing in good. It is true my life 
was as variable as the weather ; sometimes on the mount, 
^md sometimes in the valley ; sometimes alive to all the 
fervor of devotion, and sometimes, alas ! very lifeless : 
now rejoicing in hope, and anon depressed by fear. 

The preachers visiting the adjacent villages often re- 
quested my father to permit my attendance. His consent 
delighted me. I reaped from those little excursions 
abundant satisfaction, and the preachers being my elders, 
and much acquainted with the world, I collected from their 
conversation much to instruct and amuse. They were, 
however, young men ; they collected young company, and 
they were excellent singers. This was a most pleasing cir- 
cumstance. My affections naturally glowing, I soon formed 
strong attachments, and the craft of Mr. "Wesley changing 
his candidates with every new quarter, the farewell sermons 
generally dissolved the whole congregation in tears, and 
my bosom was often lacerated with many and deep wounds. 

An order from the bishop now arrived, calling upon the 
people to prepare for confirmation, and young persons were 
directed to wait upon their parish minister for the requisite 
instruction. Although the Methodists considered them- 
selves Episcopalians, yet they were detested by the clergy 
of that church ; their zeal seemed a standing satire upon 
them ; and their indignation was proportioned to the prog- 
ress made by the new sect. We, however, presented our- 
selves as candidates for confirmation. Though young, I was 
pretty generally known, and it soon became evident that I 
had incurred the displeasure of my minister. No question 
was proposed to me, but his oblique reflections were abun- 
dant. I determined, however, to address him ; and one 
day when he was cautioning those who were honored by his 



42 



LIFE OF REF. JOHN MURRAY, 



attention against those expectations about which the wild 
enthusiasts of the day were fanatically raving, such as the 
extraordinary operations of the Spirit, etc., etc, exhorting 
them to consider themselves in Ibeir baptism made mem- 
bers of Christ, and inheritors of the kingdom of heaven, I 
ventured to ask, " Did I, sir r in my baptism, receive all the 
advantages?' 7 In a most ungracious manner, he replied r 
" Undoubtedly/' — " Then, sir, allow me to ask, what can 
I want more ? Of what use is confirmation ?" — " What do 
you mean by asking these impertinent questions ? " — "I ask 
for information. I came hither to be instructed." — " No, 
you came here to instruct me ; you want to see you? patron 7 
John Wesley, in the pulpit. You have no- business here." — - 
" I conceive, sir, I have business here j I am one of your 
parish, I was warned to attend, for the purpose of receiv- 
ing instruction ; and to whom should I apply but to my 
minister ? " He deigned not to answer me, but when we 
again assembled, I observed, " 1 remember, sir, when we 
were last here, you told us there was no such thing as a 
feeling operation of the Spirit of God I request, therefore 7 
to know how we are to understand that article of our 
church, which pronounces the doctrine of election full of 
especial comfort to all godly persons, and such as feel in 
themselves the workings of the Spirit of the Lord ? " — "You 
have nothing to do with the articles ;. you do not under- 
stand them." — " I should suppose, sir, that every member 
of a church had something to do with the articles of his 
church ; and if I do not understand them, suffer me to 
come to you for information." — " You are an impertinent 
fellow, and if you thus proceed I shall order the clerk k> 
put you out of the church." — - "You may order me out your- 
self, sir : only tell me to go, and I will instantly depart.'" 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



43 



Not another syllable was uttered to me upon this occasion. 
But upon the following Sunday, when the young people of 
the congregation were again to be catechized, I appeared 
with the rest, and our teacher uttered a severe and pointed 
sarcasm. I was sufficiently abashed to cover my face with 
my hat, when, in a very angry tone, he commanded me to 
depart from the church, he would suffer no laughter there. 
I assured this Christian preacher that I did not laugh, that 
I felt no disposition to laugh. He insisted that I did, and 
with great confusion I withdrew from the altar ; but wait- 
ing for him in the porch of. the church, I humbly implored 
his pardon, while I informed him that he had clone me 
much wrong ; that I had too sacred a veneration for the 
place I was in, to deport myself unbecomingly while under 
its roof ; that I had not the smallest inclination to mirth ; 
that the consideration of his denying the operation of the 
Spirit upon the heart had too much disturbed and grieved 
me. " Well, I do still say, there is no especial operation 
of the Spirit ; I have never experienced anything of this 
description/' — u How, then, surfer me to ask, could you say, 
when you were ordained, that you felt 3-ourself moved by 
the Holy Ghost to take upon you the office of a teacher ? " 
~ " You know nothing of the matter ; you are very imperti- 
nent." Many were standing by, who seemed pleased 
with the advantage I had so apparent^ gained, and while 
thus remunerated for the insult 1 had received, I returned 
home in triumph. 

Some time after, as I was passing the street, one of my 
acquaintance asked me if I knew the bishop was at that 
moment engaged in confirming the young people of our 
parish. I instantly repaired to the church, and, to my 
great surprise, found the information correct ; my good 



44 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



priest had not intended I should be apprised of the busi- 
ness. I advanced however to the altar, and presented my- 
self to the bishop. My priest appeared exceedingly irri- 
tated, and made a communication to the bishop, in a tone 
too low to be understood by me ; but his lordship replied 
aloud, " It is of no consequence what they are, provided 
the}' understand what they are about." From this reply I 
concluded the priest had accused me of Methodism. It 
happened that I was the first of the circle presented round 
the altar, and he began as follows : — 

Bishop. — What is your business here ? 

Murray. — My lord, when I was baptized, my sponsors 
promised, in my name, to renounce the devil and all his 
works, the pomps and vanities of this wicked world, with 
all the sinful lusts of the flesh. They engaged also that, so 
soon as I should have learned the creed, the Lord's prayer, 
and the ten commandments, they would introduce me to 
this ordinance. As, however, they have neglected so to do, 
I beg leave to present myself. 

Bishop. — What idea have you of this ordinance ? 

Murray. — I conceive, my lord, that the engagements en- 
tered into at my baptism cannot be fulfilled without the 
aid and operation of the Spirit of the Lord ; and I am 
taught to consider this ordinance as a means of grace, 
through which I may obtain the aid of the Holy Spirit, so 
requisite to my well-doing. 

Bishop. — (With a softened voice.) Have you ever been 
at the communion? 

Murray. — Yes, my lord, and although I ventured at first 
with fear and trembling, yet deriving therefrom real conso- 
lation, I ha\ r e never 3^et absented nryself. 

" You are right," said the bishop, and immediately laying 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



45 



his hands upon my head, he prayed for me, with the greatest 
apparent fervor. Turning to a lad who stood next me, he 
asked him the same question he had previously addressed to 
me ; he was unprovided with an answer. " This is astonish- 
ing," said the bishop. " I should have thought you would 
at least have learned to answer from the youth who spoke 
before you ; " and he gave my priest a glance which called 
the blush of confusion into his face. I was extremely grat- 
ified ; so were my friends in general, and my pious father in 
particular. Mr. John Wesley now made us a visit ; he paid 
me the most distinguishing attention, and the regards of 
such a man were, to a } T oung heart, truly flattering. He 
cherished the idea that I should shortly become a useful 
laborer in the field which he so sedulously cultivated. One 
thing, however, gave him anxiet} r , — the probability that I 
had imbibed my father's damnable principles, for such he 
denominated the Calvinistic tenets ; yet he hoped better 
things of me, and things which accompanied salvation. 
When in my father's house he manifested toward him the 
greatest kindness and friendship ; but on leaving the coun- 
try he charged his followers to keep a strict watch over 
him, lest, through the influence of his great piety, he should 
infuse his abominable sentiments into the minds of some 
of the brethren. Mr. Wesley's disciples considered him 
the apostle of the age, and I experienced a reverential awe 
in his presence ; yet there were points in his conduct which 
excited my wonder, and which, in an}?- other character, I 
should not have hesitated to pronounce wrong ; but I should 
have believed it criminal even to suspect that he could err. 
My religion was becoming more and more formal ; it seemed 
a body without a soul. Sometimes, indeed, when listening 
to a lively, warm-hearted preacher, I was made most keen- 



46 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



ly to feel the poverty of my condition ; that, while I was 
believed rich and increasing in goods, having need of noth- 
ing, I was in truth miserably poor, blind, and naked. This 
consideration often rendered me sad. In proportion as I ap- 
peared to suffer, I became the object of respectful atten- 
tion. Glooms and melancholy were considered as infallible 
signs of a gracious disposition, not only by my father, but 
by all my religious connexions. One of our preachers used 
to say, he had rather be in the company of a thousand 
demons than ten laughing persons ! Unfortunately for the 
maintenance of my standing in the society, my sadness was 
not uniform, and, preserving no medium, I always became 
gay in full proportion to my previous depression ; and, in 
truth, cheerfulness was becoming the prevailing temper of 
my mind, and I know not how long it might have continued 
so, if I had not observed, to my great consternation, that I 
was daily losing ground in the estimation of my associates. 
This conviction banished my dangerous vivacity, and re- 
stored my respectability. I now sedulously avoided so- 
ciety, and frequently envied those who were released from 
this dangerous world. I have often, after a night of suffer- 
ing, risen with the dawn, and, entering the church-yard, have 
passed hours there, contemplating the happy state of those 
who were lodged in their narrow house, and ardently long- 
ing to be as they were. Even my father began to fear that 
I was rapidly declining, and by his consequent tenderness 
I was beyond expression touched. 

I cannot now determine how long this frame of mind 
continued ; but this I know, that it lasted long enough to 
gain me more reputation, both at home and abroad, than 
I had lost. There was such a variety in my feelings, the 
changes in my spirits from sad to gay, from gay to sad, 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



47 



were so frequent, that I had, of course, far more experience 
than any other person of my age. The young, when under 
awakenings, alwa} T s resorted to me for comfcrt and informa- 
tion, while the old hung with delight on my narrations. 
The prayers of nry father obtained due credit ; the child of 
so many prayers could only be as I was. I was at this 
time about sixteen }'ears of age ; but commencing life so 
early, I felt like twenty, and I anticipated all the enjoy- 
ments which awaited me. 

About this period (1757) our society was gratified b} r a 
most unexpected acquisition. A gentleman of great for- 
tune, who had been a virulent opposer of the Methodists, 
became a zealous convert to their tenets, and with his lady 
joined our congregation. No event had ever given such 
exultation, such complete satisfaction. They had belonged 
to the Presbyterian meeting, and their numerous kindred, 
worshipping there, continued inveterate adversaries. Be- 
tween my father and the new convert the warmest friend- 
ship took place ; and his good lad} r , who was indeed one 
of the first of women, became as warmly attached to our 
family as her husband. They had been converted at the 
same time ; and as new converts are always the most zeal- 
ous, this good couple, although advanced in years, used to 
rise at four in the morning, in the depth of winter, and go 
round among the neighbors, in order to rouse them in time 
to attend morning service, which was regularly at live 
o'clock, winter and summer. Our house being in the way, 
the}- never omitted calling upon us. My father was not 
alwa3 T s well enough to accompany them, but I never failed, 
and the delight they took in me was great. Their family 
consisted of two sons, one older than nryself, and one of 
my own age, and two daughters younger than- their broth- 



48 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



ers. For a long season this family and ours spent at least 
a part of every day together. They met constantly at 
church, and had beside many private interviews. Mr. Lit- 
tle, the name of our new friend, belonged to a class of 
which my father was the leader, and Mrs. Little to my 
mother's band. The classes generally consisted of twelve, 
beside the leader. The band was formed from the classes, 
and consisted of six beside the leader. These bands were 
composed of true believers, and of one sex and condition : 
the single women, the married women, and the widows ; 
the single men, the married men, and the widowers. My 
mother was a leader of a band of married women. The 
youth I have mentioned, of my own age, sought and ob- 
tained my confidence. I conceived for him the warmest 
affection, and I had every reason to suppose the attach- 
ment mutual. We passed many delightful hours together, 
and the discovery of our friendship gave real satisfaction 
to our parents. The eldest son adhered to the church the 
family had left ; and the only daughter who was of age to 
decide embraced the principles of her parents. From our 
connection with these worthy people I derived great pleas- 
ure. I was much beloved by the principals of the famity, 
and I had great delight in the society of their children. 
I have frequently retired with nry young friend to read and 
pray ; we had, in fact, no solitary pleasures. It was in the 
closet of this friend that I first became acquainted with 
Addison, Pope, Parnell, Thomson, and Shakespeare ; we 
read those writings together. Never shall I forget the 
avidity with which I seized, and the delight with which I 
perused, those authors. I was be} T ond expression fascinated 
by their numbers ; but I thought best carefully to conceal 
this new source of enjoyment from my father. The librae, 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 49 

to which I thus obtained free access, was very extensive ; 
besides the books already named, it contained much to at- 
tract a young mind : novels, essays, and histories, by a 
frequent perusal of which, I was both informed and im- 
proved. Thus, in the full enjoyment of sweet serenity, 
glided on many happy months ; my time was divided be- 
tween the habitation of my father and his friends. I en- 
joyed the warm regards of every individual of this amiable 
family, the eldest son excepted ; nor was he a malignant 
foe ; he contented himself with making a jest of our devo- 
tion, which only served to attach us more closely to each 
other ; but as the affection of the youngest son grew for 
me, it appeared to diminish for his brother. This fact ren- 
dered his parents unhappy, and I myself was seriously 
afflicted, lest I should be regarded, either directly or indi- 
rectty, as the source of their inquietude. They, however, 
did not hesitate to impute to their eldest son's aversion 
from religion everything unpleasant between their children, 
and I had credit for nvy full share of that rectitude and cor- 
rect conduct, to which their youngest son was, by nature, 
so uniformly inclined. It must, however, be confessed, 
that the first-born was not without causes of irritation. I 
was evidently the brother of his brother's affection ; I was 
the object of his parents' regard. His eldest sister dis- 
covered, on all occasions, a very strong partiality for me, 
and even the youngest, a child of about six }^ears old, made 
me the confidant of all her little secrets, often hung about 
my neck with infantile fondness, while her sweet endear- 
ments were precious to my heart. It was not, then, I re- 
peat, very wonderful, if the young gentleman, who felt 
himself aggrieved, should become very unhappy, and very 
much my enemy. While I was thus considered as a child 
4 



50 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



of this family, a young lady, a distant relation of Mrs. 
Little, was introduced as a visitor ; she, also, was a Metho- 
dist, and of great piety. My young friend and myself 
were in the parlor when she entered, but soon withdrew, 
when we both agreed she was the most ordinary young 
woman we had ever beheld. She was, I presume, more 
than twenty-five years of age, under the common stature, 
of a very sallow complexion, large features, and a dis- 
agreeable cast in her eye ; yet this same young lady had not 
been more than three weeks under the same roof with us, 
before we both became violently in love with her. Many 
days, however, elapsed, before either became acquainted 
with the passion of the other ; but I could never conceal 
anything long, especially from this my second self; and on 
a summer evening, as we pursued our usual walk through a 
flowery mead, on the margin of a beautiful river, both sadly 
pensive and sighing, as if our hearts were breaking, my 
friend mournfully inquired, " What, my dear Murray, 
afflicts you ? Why are you so sad ? " — "I am ashamed of my- 
self. I cannot tell you the cause of my distress." — " Not tell 
me ! would you, can you, conceal anything from me? " I 
felt the full force of a question, asked in a tone of endear- 
ing sympathy. " No, my friend, you shall be made ac- 
quainted with my whole heart. I will have no reserves to 
you ; but you, you, also, are unhappy, and I am ignorant of 
the cause I" — " Depend on it, I shall not hesitate to give 
3 t ou every mark of confidence, when you shall set the exam- 
ple." — " Well, then, my brother, my friend, will you not 
wonder (and indeed I am m} 7 self astonished) when I as- 
sure you, that I have conceived for Miss Dupee the strong- 
est and most tender passion ! " He started, appeared con- 
fused, and for some moments we both continued silent. At 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



51 



length, taking my hand, he said, " I pity you, from my 
soul, nor do I blame your attachment ; for, however unat- 
tractive in person, who that hears Miss Dupee converse, 
who that has any knowledge of her mind, can avoid loving 
her, even as you love her ; and to prove to you how fully I 
am qualified to sympathize with you, let me frankly own 
that I also love this charming woman." 

This unexpected avowal greatty afflicted me. I trem- 
bled lest so strong a passion for the same object should 
eventually prove fatal to our friendship. I expressed to 
this dear, amiable jonth my apprehensions, when he caught 
my hand, and with glistening eyes exclaimed, "Never, 
my brother, no, never, shall anything separate between thee 
and me. By first communicating 3 T our sentiments, you 
have acquired a prior right, which I will not, dare not, in- 
vade. No one else shall hear of my infant love. I will not 
allow myself to see her, but when seated by your side ; and 
although I love her more than anybody I ever have, or, as 
I believe, ever shall see, I never will be the cause of your 
unhappiness." This generosity was truly affecting. I 
caught him to my bosom. I wept ; I even sobbed as I held 
him to my heart ; and, unable to bear his superiority, I 
exclaimed, "No, my noble-hearted friend, never will I ac- 
cept such a sacrifice. We are yet to learn for which of us 
her heavenly Father has designed this treasure. Let us 
both, as occasion may occur, indulge ourselves in her soci- 
ety, and, should the event prove that you are the highly 
favored mortal, I hope, and believe, I shall willingly resign 
her, and content nryself with listening to her heavenly 
accents." And, truth to say, she possessed a most enchant- 
ing voice ; a most fascinating manner, admirably calculated 
to gain hearts, especially young hearts, simple, and soft- 



52 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



ened by religion ; and, what was above all bewitching, she 
sang the most divine of Mr. Wesley's hymns in a most 
divinely impressive manner. While, however, we were mutu- 
ally acceding to this wise plan for the disposal of Miss Dupee, 
it never once entered into our heads that she very possibly 
was not designed for either of us. Perhaps few youthful 
bosoms have ever endured a greater conflict between love 
and friendship. We experienced both in no common degree ; 
but friendship in both our hearts became triumphant. The 
amiable woman continued for some time decidedly the 
object of our deliberate election ; but. I had, however, rea- 
son to believe my attachment the strongest, for it deprived 
me of both rest and appetite. For the first time, I began 
to tag rhymes. I have sat by the hour together upon an 
eminence, whence I could behold her habitation, poetizing 
and sighing as if my heart would break. I had some rea- 
son to believe she had discovered and was diverted with 
my passion ; indeed, she must have laughed at me, if she 
had not despised me. After a long struggle between my 
hopes and my fears I ventured to address a letter to Miss 
Dupee, filled with the warmest professions of eternal affec- 
tion and conjuring her at least to grant me leave to hope. 
I dared not entrust a domestic with this letter, lest it should 
be discovered by my father ; for the dread of meeting a 
refusal from my mistress was not more terrible to my imag- 
ination than that nry father should obtain knowledge of 
my temerit}^. One night, therefore, returning from the 
society with fear and trembling, I put my letter into her 
hand, humbly requesting she would honor it with a secret 
perusal. She took it, and, gypsy as she was, absolutely 
pressed my hand, which pressure almost suffocated me with 
transport. I parted from her at the door, and from that 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



53 



moment neither slept nor ate, till I was cured, radically 
cured. 

It was upon a Wednesday night I delivered my letter. 
"What did I not suffer from the torture of suspense, until 
Friday evening ! Nothing could I hear of or from her. I was 
afraid to go to Mr. Little's. I feared everything, but the 
thing I had most reason to fear, — the contempt and indig- 
nation of my own father. It never once entered my thoughts 
that she would communicate my letter to any one, and, least 
of all, that she would expose me to my father ; but instead 
of writing me an answer, such an answer as my fond, fool- 
ish heart sometimes ventured to expect, she enclosed my 
very first love-letter to the very last person in the world to 
whom I should have chosen to confide it ! I was at this 
time debilitated by the want of rest and food, which, for 
the preceding fortnight I had rarely taken ; and upon this 
Friday evening, as I entered the presence of my father, an 
unusual dread pervaded my spirits. It is too true I never 
appeared before him without apprehension ; but upon 
this occasion I was unusually agitated ; but how were 
my terrors augmented, when my father, with a coun- 
tenance of the most solemn indignation, ordered me to 
approach ! The season of castigation had gone b}^ ; in- 
deed my father was too feeble to administer corporeal 
chastisement ; but, like the Prince cf Denmark, although he 
did not use daggers, he could speak them — he could look 
them. I cannot now remember who, or rather how many, 
were present ; my mother, and my brothers and sisters of 
course. My poor mother, I am confident, felt keenty for me, 
although she dared not interfere. " Come hither, sir," said 
ni}- father ; " approach, I sa}'." I drew near with fear and 
trembling, but yet I knew not why ; when, fixing his pierc- 



54 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN M VRB AY. 



ing, penetrating eyes upon me, with a look of such 
sovereign contempt as almost struck me blind, he began 
very deliberately to search his pockets. After a pause, which 
seemed interminable, out came a letter. I was instantane- 
ously covered, with a most profuse perspiration ; I trembled, 
and became so faint that I was obliged to catch at a chair 
for support. But my father continued slowly opening the 
killing letter, and, looking alternately at it and its author, 
and curling his nose as if his olfactory nerve had been an- 
noyed by something extremely' offensive, he again fixed his 
eyes upon me, and tauntingly said, 44 So, you poor, fool- 
ish child, you write love-letters, do you? You want a wife, 
do you ? " and, feigning an attempt to read it, but pretend- 
ing inability, he extended it to me, saying, 44 Take it, thou 
love-sick swain, and let us hear how thou addressest thy 
Dulcinea." I burst into tears ; but I confess they were tears 
of wrathful indignation, and at that moment I detested the 
lady, my father, and myself. 44 Go," continued my father, 
— 44 go, thou idle boy ; depart instantly out of my sight ; " and 
out of his sight I accordingly went, almost wishing I might 
never again appear before him. This night I parted with my 
passion for Miss Dupee. I sighed for an opportunity of 
opening my heart to my ever- faithful friend. I expected con- 
solation from him, and I was not disappointed. Suspecting 
this business was the subject of conversation in the house of 
Mr. Little, I determined to go thither no more. With my 
friend, however, I took my usual walk. He perceived the sad- 
ness of my soul ; but it was a consolation to me to learn that 
he was ignorant of the cause. I poured my grief into his 
bosom, and his indignation was unbounded. Hatred for Miss 
Dupee grew in his soul ; yet, when I knew she had the good- 
ness never to communicate my folly to any one but my 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



55 



father, and this in a private letter, I could not but esteem 
her. So here rested the affair, and I wrote no more love- 
letters, until I addressed the lady whom I married. Though 
I was not by this torturing business exempted from la belle 
passion, yet I was prevented by my fears from its manifes- 
tation. In fact, it was not until I was in a situation to make 
an election, as I supposed for life, that I was again con- 
demned to struggle with a sentiment so imposing as that 
which had occasioned me so much vexation. Many fair 
faces attracted, and for a time fixed my attention, and I 
sometimes looked forward to the brightest, purest scenes of 
domestic felicity, which were however as visionary as could 
have been conceived in the pericranium of the most con- 
firmed lunatic. 

The religious melancholy, so pleasing to my father, again 
took possession of my mind. Once more at early dawn I 
haunted the church-yard, frequently repeating to myself: — 

1 ' The man how blest, who, sick of gaudy scenes, 
Is led by choice to take his favorite walk 
Beneath death's gloomy, silent cypress shades, 
To read his monuments, to weigh his dust, 
Visit his vaults, and dwell among the tombs." 

The intervening hours of public worship, on Sunday, were 
passed by me at church, in appropriate meditation and 
prayer. The solemnity of the place aided my aspirations, 
and rendered me abundantly more gloomy ; but the versa- 
tility of my disposition still gave me to emerge, and I was 
then proportionally vivacious. In this zigzag manner I 
proceeded, gaining something every da}^, while I enjoyed a 
fine state of health, and the happiness of being much beloved 
by a large circle of respectable connexions. I still contin- 
ued to cultivate my garden ; it was the best in the place, 



56 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



and being seen and admired by many, my pious brethren 
were apprehensive it would become my idol. But we all have 
our idols. Mr. "Wesley was the idol of the many. One 
evening at a love-feast, when the whole society were assem- 
bled, a pious sister, while narrating her experiences, looking 
earnestly at Mr. Wesley, vehemently exclaimed, " O sir, 
I consider rrryself as much indebted to God for you as for 
Jesus Christ ! " The whole company were greatly surprised, 
and, as I believe, expected Mr. Wesley would have reproved 
her for this speech ; but it passed, without any then ex- 
pressed observation. The ensuing day it became the sub- 
ject of animadversion, when I undertook to defend her, by 
remarking, that as she never could have had any advantage 
from Jesus Christ, if she had never heard of and believed in 
him, she certainly was as much indebted to Almighty God 
for sending Mr. Wesley, through whom she obtained 
this redeeming knowledge, as for the Saviour, in whom 
she believed ! 

My close connection with rny 5 T oung friend, although very 
pleasant to my social propensities, subjected me, neverthe- 
less, to some pain. He was indulged with more pocket- 
money than I could command. And although he con- 
sidered his stipend never so well employed as when it 
contributed to my convenience, yet, disliking dependence, 
I had recourse to methods of obtaining money, which did 
not always please me. I sometimes borrowed, and some- 
times solicited gifts from my mother, which I did not find 
it eas} T to repay. It would have been well if neither my 
companion nor myself had been in the habit of spending 
money ; we derived therefrom no advantage : it introduced 
us into company, where we were apt to forget ourselves. 
It is true we were never inebriated, but we were often gay, 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



57 



and, for religious characters, too much off our guard. This 
dear youth was not, like me, habituated to religion ; he was 
not early disciplined by its most rigid laws. I could with 
abundantly more facility turn aside with him than he could 
pursue with me the narrow path in which I had generally 
walked. We became gradually too fond of pleasures which 
would not bear examination ; yet they were such as 
the world denominated innocent, although they strongly 
impelled us to gratifications disallowed by religion. We 
were now fast advancing in life, and, with all the enthusiasm 
of youth, we were planning schemes for futurity, when lo ! 
my precious, my early friend was seized by a malignant 
fever, which soon deprived him of his reason. I was on 
the verge of distraction. I entreated permission to tarry 
constantly by his bedside. The progress of the disease was 
astonishingly rapid, and in a few days this dear, this amiable 
youth, whom I loved as my own soul, expired in a strong 
delirium ! Every one regretted the departure of this young 
man ; every one sympathized with his parents, and many 
extended pity to me. I was indeed beyond expression 
wretched. It was the first calamity of the kind which I 
, had ever been called to suffer ; and my agonies were in full 
proportion to the strong affection which I had conceived 
for the deceased. Society no longer possessed a charm 
for me, and yet the parents of the dear departed never will- 
ingly permitted me to quit their presence ; indeed, the love 
they had borne their son seemed to be entirely transferred 
to me ; but their sufferings were incalculably augmented, 
when, in a few succeeding weeks, their eldest and only 
surviving son fell a victim to the same fatal malady which 
had deprived them of his brother. Never before did I wit- 
ness such sad and heart-affecting sorrow ! A gloomy re- 



58 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



ligion is always increased by scenes of melancholy ; hence 
the horrors of my mind were bej^ond description. Every- 
thing I had done, every word I had uttered, not strictly 
conformable to the rule of right, returned upon my mind 
with redoubled terror, and in the midst of these agonizing 
fears I was violently seized by the same fever which had 
destroyed my friend. I was, upon the first appearance of 
this mortal disease, exceedingly alarmed, but in a few 
hours it prostrated my reason ; my mother appeared to me 
as a stranger, and although I recognized my father, I was 
not afraid of him. I understood everything which was 
said by those about me, and I suffered much in consequence 
of their expressed apprehensions and predictions. And I 
have often thought that attendants in the chamber of sick- 
ness do not sufficiently consider the situation of the suffer- 
ing patient, or the possibility that the freedom of their 
remarks may augment his depression. I continued to 
linger, in the midst of extreme torture, through many weeks ; 
and so high and unremitted was my delirium, that my 
parents, from a persuasion that, should I be restored to 
health, my reason was forever lost, were reconciled to my 
departure. One particular I consider as astonishing, — 
everything which passed in my mind, through the whole 
of this protracted delirium, I can, to this day, recollect as 
well as any event which has taken place in any part of nry 
life. Contrary to the expectations of surrounding friends, 
I was gradually restored to perfect health, when I became 
still more endeared to the parents of my deceased com- 
panion ; they would have laid me in their bosoms, gladly 
cherishing me as the son of their affection. The old gentle- 
man visited my father every day, and his lady was equally 
intimate with my mother. I wept with them, I prayed 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



59 



with them, and every day our mutual attachment acquired 
new energy. They expressed their wishes to my father, 
that I should become a permanent resident in their family. 
My father, apparently terrified, was unqualified in his re- 
jection ! It would injure me by too high-raised expecta- 
tions ; it would give me indulgences fatal to my future 
peace and happiness. For myself, I had recently enter- 
tained an exalted opinion of my father ; and for his re- 
peated, and, as I once believed, severe chastisements, grati- 
tude glowed in my bosom ; consequently I was not inclined 
to act contrary to his wishes in any respect, and he had 
sufficient address to avoid offending his friends. In fact, 
so exalted was their opinion of his wisdom and piety, that 
they would have considered it criminal to censure him. 

I was now the very shadow of nry father. I visited, it is 
true ; but it was alwa} T s under his guardian care, He be- 
gan to derive pleasure from conversing with me, and our 
satisfaction was mutual. Still, however, I experienced, in 
his presence, more of reverential awe than filial tenderness ; 
yet I gained more from his society" in the last six months of 
his existence than I had for many preceding years. His 
, gradual decline at length rapidly advanced ; suddenly he 
became too much enfeebled to go abroad. His friends, who 
were numerous, visited him frequently. Mr. Little and 
lady were almost constantly with him. They congratulated 
him that God had heard his prayers, and given him a son 
to supply his place when he should be called home. This, 
indeed, he considered as a great consolation. Often with 
tears of pleasure has he wept over me, solemnly consecrat- 
ing me by fervent prayer and devout supplication. His 
devotional exercises in his family were continued until the 
last week of his existence. Even when his voice was so 



60 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



low that he could scarce articulate a word, we were drawn 
around him, when in whispers, as it were, he would, in the 
most moving manner, address the throne of grace in our 
behalf ; and for me, as his first-born son, his orisons were 
still more frequently offered up, and always with tears. 
For many years my father had lost his apprehensions of 
death ; but he always suffered more or less in the dread of 
dying. The taking down the house of his earthly taberna- 
cle ; the agonies of dissolving nature, — these anticipa- 
tions frequently appalled his soul. We had got into Pas- 
sion Week ; my father was taken from his bed every day 
until Good Friday, when it was impressed upon his mind 
that he should be with his Redeemer upon Easter Sunday. 
He indirectly communicated this assurance to my mother, 
commanding me to be immediately summoned to his pres- 
ence, when he thus addressed me : " My son, the object of 
my soul's affection, for whom, during niairy years, I have 
wept and prayed, you see your weeping, praying father, 
now totally unable to utter a prayer, nor shall I ever pray 
in this dear family again. Let me, my clear, before I leave 
you, have the felicity of seeing and hearing you take upon 
you the character you will very speedily be called to sus- 
tain ; let me hear you pray in the family before I depart." 
There was something terrible in the thought of his depart- 
ure, though we had for many years been taught to expect 
it, not only by his declining health, but by his conversa- 
tion, which had rendered us familiar with death. I cannot 
remember a day on which he did not, on his first appear- 
ance in his family of a morning, say, " Blessed be God, we 
are one day nearer our eternal rest." Yet the thought of 
assuming his place in his family, in his presence, — this 
was more terrible to me than death itself. I became con- 



\ 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



61 



vulsed ; a cold perspiration was diffused over my frame. 
My father saw my agony, and, bidding me sit down, took 
my hand, and, addressing me in the language of sympathy, 
most affectionately, most tenderly said, " You have, my 
poor bo}r, often addressed your heavenly Father, and have 
not felt abashed. Ought you to venerate your feeble, earth- 
ly father more than the God who made you? At the 
throne of grace I am upon a level with my son, and I need 
redeeming mercy as much as yourself. Let me, my dear 
child, be blessed with the privilege of seeing and hearing 
you in your new and highly responsible character this 
night." I was dumb, I could not speak. My mother was 
requested to summon the family. " Come," said my father, 
M come near me, my children. God is about to remove 
from you your father, your supplicating father ; but my 
God, your God, will never leave you nor forsake .you. He 
will give 3 t ou, in your brother, a friend, a guide, a father; 
you must consider him, when I am gone, as in my stead. 
You will unite with him in prayer, you will follow his direc- 
tion, and God will abundantly bless you together. My 
prayers on his behalf are graciously answered. The}' will, 
my beloved children, be answered on your behalf also ; for 
he who hath promised is faithful, your father hath proved 
him faithful. Our God is indeed worth}' to be trusted. 
His service is perfect freedom. Serve the Lord, my chil- 
dren, and be happy ; obey your dear mother, strengthen 
the hands of your brother, and felicity will be 3-our por- 
tion." He would have proceeded, but weakness prevented. 
Recovering himself, he called upon me to make good his ex- 
pectations. I kneeled down by his bedside in convulsive 
agony, my mother kneeling upon the opposite side ; my 
brothers and sisters forming a circle which surrounded it, 



62 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



while the domestics kneeled near us. I prayed, I wept, I 
audibly sobbed ; while my, only not divine, father was in 
ecstasy. When I had finished, " Now, O Lord," he ex- 
claimed, " let thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes 
have seen, for my ears have heard, for my heart has felt, 
thy salvation. Come near me, my darling boy." Instantly 
I ran, and again I kneeled b}^ his bedside ; he drew my 
head to his bosom ; he wept over me ; but his tears were 
tears of transport, when, laj'ing his dying hand upon my 
head, he thus fervently supplicated : " O thou, Almighty 
God, who hath thus blessed, greatly blessed, thy poor ser- 
vant ; thou who hast been my God and m} r guide, even 
unto death, bless, oh ! bless this son, with whom thou hast 
blessed thy feeble supplicant. Give him thy supporting 
presence through life, direct him in the way he should go, 
and never leave him nor forsake him. Father, Son, and 
Holy Ghost, thou covenant-keeping God, bless, bless, oh, 
bless this lad — " Here his heart swelled too big for utter- 
ance ; after a few moments recovering himself a little, he 
mildly requested me to place him properly in his bed. I 
was beyond measure shocked to see what a skeleton he had 
become, his bones in many places through his skin. It was 
my wish to tarry with him through the night ; but I could 
not obtain permission. " Go, my dear son," said he, " go 
to rest, and the God of your fathers be ever with you." 
This was the last time I ever heard his voice ; before the 
morning dawned I was summoned to attend, not a dying, 
but a deceased parent, whose value, until that agonizing 
moment, I had never sufficiently appreciated. My mother 
continued by his bedside, overwhelmed by sorrow. The 
slumbers of my father were sweet, calm, and unbroken, 
until near midnight, when she perceived he was awake, and 



LIFE OF BEV. JOHN MURRAY. 



believing him to be speaking, she inclined her ear to his 
lips, and heard him say, while his heart, his full heart, 
seemed nearly bursting, "The souls of believers are at 
their death made perfectly holy, and do immediately pass 
into glory ; but their bodies, being still united to Christ, 
do rest in their graves till the resurrection." After a 
pause, he resumed: "At the resurrection, they shall be 
openly acknowledged, and acquitted in the day of judg- 
ment, and made perfectly blessed in the full enjoyment of 
God through eternity. Blessed, perfectly bless — " Blessed, 
he would have said, but he breathed no more. When I 
approached the bed of death, I beheld the remains of the 
departed saint precisely in the position in which a few 
hours before I had placed him. Not a single struggle had 
the dear, apprehensive man, during those expiring moments, 
which, through his whole life, he had expected would be 
productive of such extreme torture. He slept in Jesus, in 
full confidence of a glorious resurrection. 

From this hour until the interment our house was 
thronged ; but of all our numerous friends, who by their 
presence expressed their sympathy, no individuals appeared 
more deeply affected than my future patrons, Mr. and Mrs. 
Little. My father was very dear to Mr. Little ; he mingled 
his tears with the widow and her orphans. It was unneces- 
sary to tell me I had sustained an irreparable loss ; my 
heart, my pierced heart, was every moment making the 
avowal. I could now fully appreciate nry father's worth. 
I felt I was bereaved, miserably bereaved ; left to myself; 
and I knew myself well enough to justify the most spirit- 
wounding apprehensions. I retired to my chamber, to my 
closet, secretly indulging my overwhelming sorrow, and if 
I ever experienced the fervor of devotion, it was then, 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



when, throwing abroad my supplicating hands, I petitioned 
the God of my father to be my God also, entreating that he 
would graciously vouchsafe to preserve me from myself, my 
sinful self. All the hard, undutiful reflections which I 
had secretly tolerated against this good, this honored man, 
while he was enduring exquisite sufferings for the purpose 
of preserving me from evil, rushed upon my recollection, 
and an innate monitor seemed to say, " You may now, 
ungrateful boy, go where you please ; the prying eye of a 
father will no more inspect your conduct." It was now, in 
these moments of torture, that my father, as it should 
seem, first became known to me. It is true, he was 
severely good ; his conscience was indeed sorely tender ; 
but, as far as he knew, he performed the will of God, at 
least in as great a measure as he was able, and when he 
believed himself deficient, as he almost always did, it gave 
him great pain. The uniform sanctity of his life com- 
manded the respect, the esteem, the affection, and even the 
veneration of all who knew him. He possessed an uncom- 
mon share of natural abilities, and his acquirements were 
very respectable. He had read much. History, Natural Phi- 
losophy, Poetry, these were all familiar to him ; but the 
sacred Scriptures, and books of devotion, were his delight. 
Human productions constituted his amusement, but the 
word of his God was his food. He was so acute a rea- 
soner that it was difficult to gain any advantage over him 
in argument ; yet he was easily provoked, but immediately 
sensible of error. Every deviation from propriety was 
marked by tears. He had so much self-command as never 
to strike a child in a passion ; this he denominated a 
demoniac sacrifice. He would first correct the angry man ; 
but, however painful the act, he never omitted what he con- 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



65 



ceived it his duty to bestow. He was a very tender-hearted 
man, and his prayers were rarely unaccompanied by tears. 
He mourned with the mourner, for he was himself a man 
of sorrow. Being for the last nineteen years of his life a 
confirmed invalid, he was constantly and fervently looking 
toward his heavenly home, — sometimes with impatience, 
when, correcting himself, he would sa} r , " Well, well, 
heaven is worth waiting for ; one hour, passed in the courts 
of my God, will be a rich remuneration for all terrestrial 
sufferings." 

It is the custom in Ireland, when any person of distinc- 
tion or respectability is called out of time, to watch 
around the remains, night as well as day, until the body 
be entombed. The remains of my father were affection- 
ately attended ; but they were attended in an uncommon 
manner. As he differed from others in life, so these last 
honors differed from those usually bestowed. The morn- 
ing immediately succeeding his demise, our friends and 
neighbors assembled in our dwelling, when Mr. Little thus 
addressed them : " My friends, it hath pleased God to 
take unto himself the soul of our beloved brother. As he 
lived, so he died, a pattern of excellence. We know, we 
feel, that he has not left his equal. We unite with this 
dear family in sensibly lamenting the departure of our 
experienced friend, our guide, our comforter." Here he 
mingled his tears with those of our attendant friends. 
After a long pause, he proceeded : " Fellow-mourners, the 
greatest respect we can pay to the remains of our inesti- 
mable, our heavenly guide is to pass our time together in 
this house of mourning, not onl}- for him, but for our- 
selves, in the way which would be most pleasing to him 
were he present: we will, therefore, appropriate our hours 
5 



66 



LIFE OF REV. JOHfr MURRAY. 



to reading and to prayer. One of our brethren will 

address the throne of grace, after which I will read a ser- 
mon, the production of Mr. Erskine, of whose writings 
the dear departed was remarkably fond." The prayer, 
the sermon, the concluding prayer, deeply affected every 
one ; and the evening witnessed a renewal of these pious 
exercises. Thus were our nights and days devoted until 
the interment. On that day the throng was prodigious. 
The worth, the good actions of my father were the theme 
of many a tongue. His praises were echoed, and re- 
echoed, while tears of sorrow moistened many an eye. 
Every one bore in his, or her, hand to the graveyard a 
sprig of bays, which^ after the body was deposited, was 
thrown over the coffin. But no words can describe my 
agonizing, my terrific sensations when I reflected upon the 
charge which had devolved upon me. I remembered my 
father's words on the evening preceding his exit, and I felt 
myself reduced to the necessity of assuming his place in 
the family. But how much was I to suffer by comparison 
with him whose place I was appointed to fill ! Yet, had I 
wished to avoid entering upon my office, my mother, the 
friends of my father, would have borne testimony against 
me. They thronged around me, they entreated me imme- 
diately to take charge of the famity, and to commence my 
arduous task b}^ devout supplications to Almighty God. 
I complied with their united wishes ; but no tongue can 
utter, no language can delineate, the strong emotions of 
my soul ; again I was convulsed, again I agonized ; the 
whole family were inexpressibly affected. It was the 
most melancholy evening I had ever experienced. But 
my benighted spirit was suddenly refreshed by a ray of 
consolation, emitted by the cheering hope that my father's 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



67 



God would be my God, and that the fervent prayers he 
had offered up in my behalf would be answered in my 
favor. I was encouraged, too, by my mother, and by the 
friends of my father, who besought the Lord in my behalf, 
and who were daily reminding me of the interest which 
my deceased parent unquestionably had with the prayer- 
hearing God. 

Yet, although soothed and greatly stimulated, my new 
employment continued to distress and appall my spirit. 
The conviction of every day assured me that I was un 
equal to the arduous task I had undertaken. My mother 
was my ever-ready aid and counsellor; but my brothers 
and sisters always remembered that I was not their father; 
and they were highly displeased whenever I presumed to 
exercise over them paternal authority. Yet this I be- 
lieved to be my duty ; and, that I might be in everything 
like my father, I took up the rod of correction, seriously 
chastising my brother, for the purpose of restoring him to 
the narrow path from which he had wandered. But, 
although I had learned of my father to use the rod, I never 
could make it answer the same purpose; in my hand, it 
only served to increase the evil; it became the signal of 
revolt ; and, while my brother continued incorrigible, my 
other brothers and my sisters enlisted on his side. My 
mother, dear, honored sufferer, was exceeding^ distressed. 
She had, in fact, a difficult part to act. She was fearful 
whichever side she might espouse would, by creating new 
irritation, make bad worse; and yet, upon an occasion so 
interesting, we would not allow her to be silent ; she must 
positively attend to our appeals. But, however arduous 
her task, she possessed discretion sufficient to meet it, and 



68 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



to produce an trltimatum completely satisfactory to all 
parties. 

She replied to our remonstrances by a request to be 
allowed until the eyening succeeding our complaints for 
serious deliberation. The interesting evening came* 
" Come, my children, — all equally dear to my soul, — come, 
the doors are now shut ; this is the time of evening ser- 
vice. There is the chair which your pious r your affection- 
ate father once filled. Can you remember the last time he 
addressed you from that seat ? Let me, my dear children, 
let me repeat, as well as my memory will permit, what he 
said to us the last time he addressed us from that chair. 
6 Come,' said he, 4 come near me, my children,' when, fold- 
ing his arms around your elder brother, and pressing him 
to his bosom, while shedding over him abundance of tears? 
and pouring out his soul in supplication for him, he most 
affectingly said, ' I am, my clear child, hastening to that 
heaven for which I have so long waited. For you, ever 
since you were born, I have wept and prayed ; graciously 
hath my God inclined his ear to the voice of my supplica- 
tion. He hath blessed me by giving me to see you, before 
I die, prepared, by divine favor, to take my place, I leave 
you, my dear son, to act a father's part when I shall be- 
here no more. Let your mother^ your brothers and j r our 
sisters, receive from you that attention and care they can 
no more obtain from me. But, although I shall be no more 
with you, your God, your fathers God, will never leave 
nor forsake you. Nay, my own beatified spirit may ob- 
tain increasing felicity, by being sometimes permitted to 
behold the order and harmony of my beloved family, while 
collected before the tin-one of grace, with the love of God 
and love of each other glowing with divine ecstasy in 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



every bosom.' It was then, my precious children, that 
your devout father clasped yow separately to his bosom ; 
you remember how he then spake to yovi : 1 1 go, my be- 
loved children. You will no more hear my voice from this 
ehair. I shall no more be able to pray with you, to ad- 
vise, or to direct you. But, my children, I leave with you 
a brother, who will perform to you the part of a father. 
I leave him in my place. It is my command that he tread 
in my steps as far as I have proceeded in the path of 
justice; and, my dear children, I conjure you to attend to 
liis directions. The eldest son was, of old, the priest in 
the famil}" of his father. And if you love me, if you love 
your mother, if you would prove your love to God, or even 
to yourselves, contribute all in 3 T our power to strengthen 
the hands of your brother/ You remember he then em- 
braced each of you and wept over you ; and I pray you to 
remember that you. then solemnly promised to perform all 
which your dying father directed you to perform. Per- 
haps the saint may be at this moment beholding us in this 
very spot, in which, a few days previous to kis departure 
out of time, he so affeetingly, so tenderly admonished 
ns — " M.y mother paused, as influenced by sacred awe 
of the presence she had supposed. We audibly wept, we 
rushed into each other's arms, we embraced each other; 
and so long as we continued together, our affection, our 
piety, and our devotion were uninterrupted. 



CHAPTER II. 



KECORD CONTINUED, UNTIL THE AUTHOR' S DEPARTURE FROM 
IRELAND. 

Launched from the shore, on life's rough ocean to3t, 
To my swollen eye my star of guidance lost; 
Torn, from my grasp, my path-directing hefm, 
While waves succeeding waves my prospects whelm. 

By the malpractices of the second husband of my ma- 
ternal grandmother, a large share of my mother's patrimony 
passed into other hands. I accidentally obtained intelli- 
gence of some fraudulent proceedings of the great personage 
by whom it was then holden. We did not possess ability 
to support a prosecution for the recovery of our rights. 
Some time after the demise of my father, the person who 
resided upon the estate was sued for rent. To this person 
I communicated, in confidence, what I knew to be fact. 
I assured him the great man who retained the estate had 
no legal claim to it ; and I advised him not to pay the rent. 
He followed my advice, and the business came before a 
court of judicature, The gentleman who sued the tenant 
summoned me, as a witness, to prove that the tenant had 
occupied the house the specified number of years. Thus I 
was unexpectedly present at the trial, and the interference 
of Providence produced a result far beyond our most san- 
guine expectations. The tenant denied the right of the 
landlord to demand the rent, alleging, that if he paid it to 

70 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



71 



him he might hereafter he compelled to pay it to another. 
*' To whom? " interrogated the court. " To Mrs. Murray 
and her children, to whom the estate in question properly 
belongs." I was called upon for an explanation, and I 
boldly pledged myself to prove the truth of the testimony 
delivered by the tenant ; adding that I could make such a 
statement as would render the affair abundantly clear to 
their honors. I was immediately silenced by the lawyers 
upon the opposite side, who produced a deed of the con- 
tested property, signed, sealed, and delivered. I then 
requested the indulgence of the honorable court, while I 
observed, that, as I was not sufficiently opulent to procure 
counsel, I presumed to solicit permission to plead my own 
cause. Full consent was unhesitatingly granted ; when I 
proved, to the satisfaction of the court and jury, that this 
deed was signed after the death of the husband of my 
grandmother ; and further, that, had the man been living, 
the right of disposal was not vested in him. I consumed a 
full hour and a half in unfolding a scene of wickedness 
not to be defended ; and I closed by grateful acknowledg- 
ments to their honors for the patience they had exercised. 
The jury retired, and speedily returned wijbh a verdict in 
favor of the tenant. I immediately entered my claim, and 
a trial commenced, which terminated in my favor ; and I 
not only obtained the house in question, but two others, in 
like circumstances, to the no small satisfaction of the pub- 
lic and the mortification of the great man and his lawyers. 

We immediately took possession of the house ; and our 
utmost gratitude to that God, who had interposed for us, 
was most powerfully excited. Here I had a very large, 
and, in no long time, a very well-improved garden, abound- 
ing with everything useful and beautiful ; herbs, fruits, and 



72 



LIFE OF RET. JORN MURE AY. 



flowers 7 in great abundance ; and my situation was fully 
adequate to my wishes „ Harmony presided in our family ; 
but, alas ! gradually, as by common consent, we grew more 
careless of our domestic duties, and more attentive to pub- 
lic affairs ; deriving a kind of amusement from what was 
passing abroad, which we could not obtain at home. We 
had many visitors? and, consequently, we frequently vis- 
ited ; yet no individuals were so dear to us as were Mr. 
Little and his amiable family. I have repeatedly observed 
that both Mr. Little and his lad} 7 had, from the desitli of 
their 50ns, regarded me even with parental affection. 1 
was only not an inmate in their dwelling ; and, but for the 
charge which the demise of my father had devolved upon 
me, they would not so long have delayed proposals, which*, 
in a most serious manner, they ultimately made to my 
mother. Mr. Little was rather advanced in years, II o 
commenced his career without property * 7 but be was pru- 
dent and industrious ; his lady was equally so. She brought 
her husband no more than one hundred pounds sterling ; 
but she was a portion in herself. Although uncommonly 
economical and careful, her charities were yet very exten- 
sive. She could assist, she observed, the children of 
penury without loss ; for her resource was her own aug- 
mented industry. When this amiable couple became 
known to us they possessed immense wealth ; and they 
had now but two surviving children, — daughters. We 
were passing a pleasant evening in their hospitable dwell- 
ing, throwing the eye of retrospection over past scenes, 
until our hearts were greatly softened. The departed sons, 
the deceased husband and father, passed in review, and 
were alternately the subjects of conversation and regret. 
At length, Mr. Little thus addressed us : "I have lost my 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 73 

sons, and I have long viewed you, my young friend, in the 
stead of ray buried children. It is true, I have many 
nephews, and I am urgently solicited to receive one of them 
•under my roof ; but I de net feel a freedom so to do, 
although I must absolutely have some one to assist me in 
the arrangement of my affairs ; and I now tender to you-, 
■my dear young man, to you, who have so long been beloved 
by every individual of my family, — I offer to you the 
place of a son in my house, in my heart. And if you, 
madam, will consent, and your son, thus sanctioned, will 
accept my proposal, he shall immediately take pos ession 
of the apartment of his deceased friend (my lamented son), 
and I shall bless God for thus making up my loss/' Mrs. 
Little, who sat by bathed in tears, most cordially united her 
solicitations. The offer was too great to be rejected. We 
accepted it with becoming gratitude, and what rendered a 
proposal so liberal abundantly more pleasing, was an 
appearance on the part of our benefactors of having re- 
ceived instead of conferred an obligation. I attended my 
mother home, with mingled sensations of pain and pleas- 
ure : pain, from the consideration that I was leaving a 
- family which I had been accustomed to view as, in a very 
tender sense, my own, and with which I should never, 
perhaps, in like manner again associate ; pleasure, from 
the reflection that I was entering upon a new scene of life, 
from which I had a prospect, not only of independence, but 
affluence. It is true, upon my departure, which took place 
upon the succeeding morning, I wept bitterly ; so did my 
widowed mother and her children ; and my tears again 
flowed, upon entering the apartments of my dear young 
friend, with whom I had passed so many pleasing hours. 
But I was received by my new parents and sisters as the 



LIFE OF REV, JOHN MUSS AT, 



dearest of sons 7 and as the brother of their affection. Jog? 
soon exhilarated my spirits, and brightened upon my coun- 
tenance. I had the warm congratulations of all my 
friends ; for it was noised abroad that this yery opulent 
gentleman had adopted me as his son, and they went so 
far as to add, his son and heir. All this was yery pleasing 
to me, but the kindred of Mr. Little were of course highly 
irritated ; and I became so much the object of their envy 
and their hatred, that, whenever they visited their uncle-, 
without deigning, to speak to me, they studiously sought 
opportunities of insulting me. This gave me pain, but it 
did me no real injury ' r for, upon every instance of invidi- 
ous conduct toward me, my parental friends and their 
family, especially their daughters^ studiously aDgmente-jl 
their testimonies of esteem and affection. 

After I had passed some months with Mr, Little 7 lie was 
visited by a young preacher just entering' the sacerdotal 
character, to whom I was much attached 7 and our friend- 
ship was mutual. I was prevailed upon by this preacher 
to accompany him upon a little journe}\ I departed with 
the sanction of my patron. I had, in the societies with 
which I had been connected, occasional^ exhorted ; and I 
had been frequently urged by several of their preachers to 
aid them in their labors. Upon this journey I was, if I 
may so express n^self, absolutely ensnared. Accompany- 
ing my friend to the assembled congregation, with an 
expectation of hearing him, he put his arm under mine 7 
and helping me to ascend the temporary pulpit erected for 
the occasion, he suddenly quitted me, and I was in a man- 
ner constrained to speak to the multitude. Thus, for the 
first time, I preached to a large concourse of serious and 
attentive hearers in public ; and, although at the ap- 



LIFE OF KEV. JOHN MURRAY, 



pointed" time I returned to my muck-loved home, I con- 
tinued, as opportunity offered, from that time forward, 
peaching whenever I journeyed, and even at home when 
necessitated by the absence Gf the preacher. This made 
some noise in our little world ; but, as it was not displeas- 
ing to my honored friends, I was not dissatisfied. My in- 
veterate enemies, however, being the nearest relations of 
the family i& which I resided, were constantly endeavoring 
to undermine my interest in the heart of their kinsi&am 
i was to pass some time in a neighboring city ; and, to 
render my visit more pleasing, my patron, at my depart- 
ure, furnished me with a sum of money. This sum I care- 
lessly put into lny pocket without examination, until, call- 
ing in my way upon my mother, I discovered that my 
patron had, as I supposed, made a capital mistake, — that 
he had given me gold instead of silver. I mentioned this 
circumstance to my mother in presence of one of her 
neighbors ; and, without announcing my design, I imme- 
diately returned home for the purpose of rectifying the 
error. Upon my unexpected appearance before Mr. Little 
with information of his mistake, he smiled, and said that 
he never kept his gold and silver together, " It was my 
design," said he, " to give you gold ; but I advise you not 
to throw it away." I pursued my journey and passed my 
time agreeably.; but whether I threw away the bounty of 
my benefactor, I do not at this period recollect. I only 
know that I brought not a shilling home with me ; in fact, 
I was never sufficiently sensible of the value of money to 
retain it in my possession. I was received, on my return 
from this visit, with uncommon pleasure ; and some time 
after, my kind patron, taking me into his private apart- 
ment, thus addressed me: "I need not, my dear, inform 



76 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



you that you have many enemies, mid I regret to say thai 
those enemies are among my nearest relatives ; but con- 
tinuing in the paths of rectitude^ you will be beyond the 
reach of their most malignant calumnies. Soon after yon 
left home the other (jay, the clergyman who- has recently 
become the husband of my niece called upon me, request- 
ing a private audience ; and, when retired into- this room,, 
he observed that he conceived himself in duty bound to- 
apprise me that I was not sufficiently acquainted with the 
©haracter of the person I had adopted - T that he was not 
konest;: that he had obtained money from me, to> which he 
had no right. ' You gave Mm, sir,, as you believed, some- 
pieces of silver ; but, upon examination, they proved to be 
guineas. This fact I can prove - r and, if he could thus act,, 
what may he not do V I told this officious gentleman that 
I had really intended, to give you- gold ' r but that you,, con- 
ceiving I had made a mistake, forbore to appropriate the 
money, and speedily returned home for the purpose of 
making the communication. Our clergyman departed,, 
and, you will easily conceive, not a little humbled. 1 
mention this circumstance to you, my son, to put you; 
upon your guards It is my wish that in future you should 
not be so communicative." This little anecdote was ex- 
citingly repeated to me by the good lady and her daugh- 
ters, who never failed triumphantly to report , every little 
occurrence which they believed would contribute either to- 
my pleasure or reputation. 

My establishment in this family rendered me an object 
of envy, even among, some of my religious connections. 
Objections were raised against my supposed erroneous sen- 
timents. I was more than suspected of retaining my father's 
Calvinislic doctrines. Mr. Wesley received information 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



77 



against me. He set a watch over me ; thus fixing upon me 
the evil eye of suspicion. A maiden sister, considerably 
advanced in years, became a dependent resident in the 
family of her brother. Her character was marked by 
duplicity, and she delighted in mischief. The tales she 
propagated were as various as the parties which listened 
to her narrations ; and all her communications were made 
under the strict seal of secrecy. Young and unsuspect- 
ing, I found it difficult to encounter enemies of such 
opposite descriptions. I had some friends, of whose affec- 
tion I doubted not ; with these friends I passed much 
time, and I communicated to them everything, and they, 
in their turn, communicated everything to me ; while 
many circumstances thus confided were, to my great 
astonishment, in circulation. My situation became un- 
easy to me. I was fond of being in company abroad : 
this was very disagreeable to my friends at home. They 
expected in me a friend and companion, who would, by 
reading and conversation, give to their fireside new 
charms ; and both parents and daughters were mortified 
and disappointed. Mr. Little expressed his disapproba- 
tion of my frequent absences. I was hurt. Mrs. Little 
shed tears, and entreated me to change my conduct. 
" You have," said she, " in this wide world no such friends 
as we are disposed to prove ourselves ; you will be abun- 
dantly more happy at home than you can be abroad. You 
should supply to us the place of our deceased children ; 
we expect consolation from } r our society. You arc greatly 
beloved in this house ; your enemies are not under this 
roof. For God's sake, if you have any regard for us; if 
you have any regard for any of your friends ; if you would 
secure your own happiness, or the happiness of your 



78 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY* 



mother, do not thus conduct." Thus, with many en- 
treaties, did this dear, affectionate lady endeavor to arrest 
my wandering ; and while attending to her friendly lec- 
tures my best resolutions were- in full force, and I deter- 
mined never to offend again. But, going out to meeting, 
one and another of my religious connections would take 
me by the arm. I could not avoid engagements - r and 
when I returned home, every individual: of the family,- 
Miss Little excepted, had frecguently retired to rest. 
The good girl waited to' apprise me of her father's dis- 
pleasure. Much did she expostulate ; and her expostula- 
tions were not always unmingled with- tears.- My mother 
was rendered extremely wretched. I saw the gathering 
storm, but I had not sufficient fortitude- to- abide its rav- 
ages. My enemies derived consolation from my indiscre- 
tion, and my infelicities daily augmented. Whenever I 
was censured I was- rendered more- abundantly unhappy ; 
and I formed a serious resolution to quit both the family 
of Mr. Little and the country, and to seek an asylum in 
my native place, — England. For many days I continued 
obdurate ; no remonstrances- could influence me, I must 
absolutely commence a traveller ; I must go* to England. 
I had no object, yet I must depart for England ; I could 
not tell why r indeed^ It was believed I was- distracted. 
What, relinquish fortune, and such connections, and such; 
a prospect? — -for it was generally believed that I was to- 
be united in marriage with Miss Little. Nay, her father 
was informed by his kindred that I was absolutely clan- 
destinely seeking, to gain the affections of the young lady, 
and that they believed I was already in possession of her 
heart. But Mr. Little gave no credit to this report \ he' 



LIFE OF 11EV. JOTW MVlillAY. 



79 



knew that my evenings were passed abroad, and that this> 
was the only source of dissatisfaction. 

It happened, however, one evening when I had been out 
late, and he, according to custom, retired to rest, I found, 
on my return home, Miss Little waiting in the parlor, for 
the purpose of making a communication, which she con- 
ceived would be of consequence to me. We sat some time in 
conversation, by which we were mutually interested, She 
made known to me the invidious remarks of her uncles and 
aunts, and their displeasure at her for not uniting with 
them in their sentiments. She dwelt upon the grief which 
my inattention to the wishes of her parents occasioned 
them ; and upon this part of her subject she became affected 
even to tears.- I, also, was greatly affected, and for the 
first time in my life, taking her hand, I impressed upon it 
a kiss of fraternal affection, wheii 7 to our great astonish- 
ment, her father entered the apartment. Had we seen a 
spectre we could not have been more appalled. He stood 
for some moments speechless, until, .fixing his eyes in- 
dignantly on my face, which was certainly covered with 
confusion, in a very pointed and significant manner he 
said, " So, sir /" and taking his daughter by the hand he 
conducted her from the parlor, leaving me to my own re- 
flections. Words are inadequate to the description of my 
agonies during the residue of that night. An idea of Miss 
Little in any other character than that of a very dear 
sister had never crossed my mind. Yet suspicion was 
now furnished with a weapon against me, which would 
abundantly enforce the report retailed to Mr, Little by 
his kindred. I have often wondered that, at an age so 
susceptible of impression, I did not become more warmly 
attached to Miss Little- She was a most lovely and ami a- 



80 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



ble young woman. And she certainly gave me every 
reason, which a modest, delicate, and sensible female could 
give, to believe she was not absolutely disinclined to listen 
to a tale of love. My apathy can only be accounted for 
b} r a recurrence to an unquestionable fact : my heart was 
wholly engrossed by my religious connections. I passed 
this memorable night in my chamber without entering my 
bed. I descended the stairs in the morning with the feel- 
ing of a malefactor. I dreaded the sight of every one in 
the house. Mr. Little saw me, but spake not to me. Mrs. 
Little addressed me in the language of kindness. Their 
daughter was not present, and I am persuaded she was not 
reduced to the necessity of feigning indisposition as a pre- 
tence for absence. After breakfast Mrs. Little, in a whis- 
per, directed me to retire into the back parlor, where she 
would speedily join me. With trembling dread I obeyed. 
She soon appeared ; the shutters were closed, just light 
enough to see her, and be seen by her. I saw she had 
been in tears : she was a most kind-hearted lady. I could 
not speak. She commanded me to be seated. I drew a 
chair for her, and another for myself. She sat down, and 
I seated nryself by her. After a pause she began: "Tell 
me, I conjure you, tell me what I ought to understand by 
the appearances of this morning. Answer honestly the 
questions I shall put to you ; but I know youx answers 
will be literally true. My poor girl is very much dis- 
tressed ; her father is very reserved and very sad ; he will 
make no reply to my inquiries, and my child is also silent. 
Tell me, I repeat, what is the matter ? " — ; ' I came home late 
last night, madam. No one was up but Miss Little, who, 
like an affectionate sister, informed me she had something 
to communicate to me, with which I ought to be ac- 



LIFE OF REV. J0T1N MURRAY. 81 

quainted. I listened to her till I became greatly affected 
with what I heard, and, deeply sensible of her goodness, 
we were mingling our tears, when, thus thrown off my 
guard, I regret to say that I am apprehensive I committed 
an unpardonable offence. I am mortified, while I confess 
to you, my dear madam, that I had the boldness to press 
to my lips the dear hand which seemed extended to rescue 
me from indiscretion. But indeed, ray dear lady, it was 
the first time I ever dared to take so great a liberty, 
and I would give the world I had not then been guilty of 
so much temerity. At the moment Mr. Little entered, I 
felt as if I should have sunk under his indignant glance* 
Miss Little was greatly discomposed, while her father, 
with a voice rendered tremulous by anger, significantly 
said, ' So, sir ! ? and conducted his daughter out of the 
room. This, my dear lady, is the whole I know of the 
matter. I fear Miss Little will never forgive me for cre- 
ating her so much distress. I had infinitely rather be dead 
than alive. I dread the eye of Mr. Little, and it is my 
opinion I ought immediately to quit your hospitable 
mansion." — " Alas ! my dear child, I know not what to say. 
You believe you ought to quit us ! Would to God you had 
never thus thought ! This persuasion is the source of all 
our unhappiness. How often have I told you that no 
enemy could ever injure you if your own conduct was 
uniformly correct. You have deeply wounded a heart that 
loves you. I promised myself that you would become 
a large addition to our domestic felicity. But you are 
apprehensive you have offended bej'ond forgiveness ! 
Alas ! my daughter is more distressed for you than for her- 
self; you know not how much she has suffered on your 
account ; you know not how much we all suffer ! Why, 
6 



82 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



my dear child, will you thus afflict your best friends ? " — " I 
am, my dear madam, grieved to have been the source of so 
much distress to persons so dear to me ; but I shall shortly 
be out of the way of offending any one." — " What do you 
mean ? " — " To quit this house, to quit this Gauntly." The 
dear lady threw her maternal arms around me, and with 
flowing tears interrogated : " Is it thus you will avoid 
offending us? Ah, my dear child, how little do you know 
of us, or of j^ourself ! For God's sake, let me persuade you 
not to take so rash a step ! Where would you go, and 
what would you do ? Would you leave a home, an envied 
home, and thus, while 3^011 afflicted your dearest friends, 
gratify y our malignant foes ? " — " But, my dear madam, it is 
impossible I can continue under this roof. Mr. Little will 
not restore me his confidence ; my felicity in this family is 
fled, forever fled." — "You are mistaken ; your happiness 
rests entirely with yourself ; be but uniformly discreet ; 
be but the companion we expected when we adopted you, 
and all will yet be well." — " But, madam, the eye and ear 
of Mr. Little will now be open against me. Suspicion 
will be on the alert, and he will accept the tales of my 
enemies as testimonies of sacred writ." — " Believe it not ; 
think no more of this untoward business ; you have but 
one enemy who can essentially injure you, and that enemy 
is yourself. I will be responsible for my family ; you shall 
not be molested in this house, only convince us that you 
love us ; do but prove that you are more attached to us 
than to any other individuals, and we are satisfied. Do 
but reflect how delightfully we might pass our time to- 
gether. The business of the day closed, and we assembled 
in the parlor, you with your book, we your admiring 
audience, until we are summoned to supper. Then, after 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



83 



you have closed our serene day by an appropriate and 
affecting address to the God who created, and who has 
hitherto preserved us, we retire to an early pillow, soothed 
and gratified, our sleep cannot but be refreshing. Why, 
what a paradise would our abode become ! But, my child, 
when you. pass every evening abroad, you know not what 
a melancholy group you render us. We are dumb ; our 
countenances are sad ; our silence is sometimes broken by 
Mr. Little, who questions in anger, ' Where is our young 
gentleman to-night ? Any society but ours ! ' Then follows 
a heavy sigh : ' Well, let us go to bed, it will be late 
before he returns ; but this will never do.' We dare not 
open our lips ; but my girls mingle their tears with mine." 
Greatly moved by these observations, 1 sincerely repented 
of my past conduct ; and I determined I would in all things 
conform myself to the wishes of my parental friends. I 
beheld the family picture presented before me by the dear 
lady. I beheld it with rapture, and I decisively said, 
" Yes, indeed, my future evenings shall all be devoted to a 
family so charming, and thus will my days be passed in 
peace." I promised the dear lad} r , solemnly promised, that I 
would be all she wished ; and I communicated to her bosom 
inexpressible delight. I left her in tears, but they were 
tears of rapture. I retired to my chamber ; I threw myself 
upon my knees ; I supplicated pardon of my heavenly Father, 
and, with a devout heart, I implored his supporting aid. 
A petition to my Creator always possessed the potent 
power of refreshing my soul. I was greatly refreshed, and 
I looked forward with renewed complacency. In a few 
hours I was summoned to dinner ; at the door of the din- 
ing-room I was met by Mr. Little ; no cloud rested upon 
his countenance. I entered the dining-room, where were 



84 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



seated my charming, my faithful friends, the mother and 
her daughters. Their countenances were animated, but 
their eyes bore testimony to their previous agitation. Our 
interview and hour of dining were highly gratifying. It 
is true, many words were not uttered, but there is in the 
expressive e3~e and other intelligent features of a fine coun- 
tenance a fascination which dwelleth not in words. Soon 
after dinner, my little friend, the youngest daughter of my 
patron, visited me in my chamber, and bestowed upon me 
many caresses. 

Halcyon days and months now revolved. I fondly fancied 
I had surmounted every difficult}', and I anticipated a suc- 
cession of delightful enjoyments ; yet again I experienced 
the satiety consequent upon one unvaried routine. He 
who had appointed me for a life of wandering gave me a 
disposition which was repugnant to the constant recurrence 
of the same scene. I ventured to pass one evening abroad ; 
another and another succeeded. I was severely reflected 
upon, and I felt it keenly. Conscious of meriting reproach, 
I was the more deeply wounded. I had been recently con- 
versant with a young preacher from England. My imagina- 
tion was fired ; the world could not have longer detained 
me. I condemned myself for wasting so much time. My 
heart, my soul, was in England, in London. Let the world 
bestow its censures, London was the place ; it contained 
everything delightful. I was on tiptoe to be gone. If I 
was not approved by the family, so much the better ; there 
would be less ingratitude in quitting it. My dear maternal 
friend once more sought and obtained a private interview ; 
this I wished to avoid. She saw my reluctance, and was 
convinced she should not succeed. She reproached me ; 
this, though painful, I could bear better than her tender- 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



85 



ness. " Then you will leave us ? " said the dear lady. " I 
am determined." — "You will repent it, sir; you will 
return with sorrow and with shame ; when, possibly, you 
may not find these hospitable doors open to receive you." — 
" Never, never ; I will die first." She paused ; she raised 
her hands to heaven ; she looked — merciful God ! I see her 
now before me. The impression of her varying countenance 
was unutterable ; tears coursed each other down her pallid 
cheeks. Pausing for a few moments, she said, " Poor, 
unhappy youth, you know not what you are about, where 
you are going, and what you are doomed to suffer. Here, 
then, end all my pleasing prospects. Now indeed I have 
lost my sons. Poor Anna ! she has now, in truth, no brother. 
Go, unhappy youth, go. The sooner you depart, the better. 
I do not wish to see 3^011 again." She left me, nor will I 
attempt a description of my sensations. I retired to my 
chamber, — my chamber now no more. I wept, I audibly 
sobbed. In imagination I beheld the beloved friend by 
whom it was once occupied. He seemed to upbraid me for 
my conduct. How torturing were the pangs I suffered ! 
Upon the evening of this sad day, my cherub friend entered 
the chamber, and for the last time during my abode therein. 
Pretty soul, she threw her arms around my neck ; my face 
was wet with her tears. She told me that her sister was 
very, very sad ! " On what occasion, my love ? " — " Why, 
papa is very, very angry with you ; and she says you are 
going away to-morrow, she knows not where, and that she 
shall never see you again ; and she walks about her cham- 
ber, and wrings her hands. Oh, dear, oh, dear ! I never 
saw her so much distressed before ! " This was a truly 
affecting night ; but it was the last I passed under that 
roof. I was not summoned to breakfast. A servant came 



86 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



to ask if I would breakfast in my chamber. There could be 
no doubt of my negative. I saw by the countenance of 
this domestic that I was fallen. About twelve o'clock I 
received a message from Mr. Little ; he was alone ; I must 
attend him. My sufferings were great. To meet his eye 
was abundantly worse than death. I endeavored to avoid 
it. Some time elapsed before he spoke. He repeatedly 
attempted to speak, but mingling grief and rage arrested 
his utterance. At last he said, " Well, sir, you are going 
to commence 3 r our travels?" This, with the manner in 
which it was spoken, relieved me. It was at that moment 
my choice to cherish resentment rather than regret. " I 
am going to England, sir." — " You are? Well, and what 
are you going to do there? But this is no business of 
mine ; }^et I suppose it must be my business to know how 
you are to get there. Have you any mone} T , sir?" — "No, 
sir." — " Hold your hat, sir." I did so, and he threw into 
it as much gold as he pleased, and, as I then believed, as 
much as would support me, if I should reach the extreme 
age allotted to man. "Have you enough, sir?" — u Yes, 
sir, quite enough, and God forever bless you ! " — "Do you 
hear, sir? Leave behind you my son's fowling-piece ; and 
here ends my air-built castle." And with a flushed counte- 
nance and a tearful eye he left me, nor did I ever more 
cross the threshold of his door. I turned my back upon 
this once delightful home, with mingling emotions of sor- 
row, mortification, regret, and anger ; all combining to pro- 
duce unutterable anguish. My frame trembled as I turned 
from the door ; a dullness pervaded my heart ; sickness 
seized my stomach, and I had just sufficient presence of 
mind to turn the contents of my hat into my pocket-hand- 
kerchief, when I sunk down upon the steps of the first door 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



87 



in my way. I was seen and noticed by the people of the 
house, who conveyed me into their dwelling, and when they 
had recovered me, questioned me respecting the cause of 
my indisposition. I related, with my usual frankness, 
every particular, and in a short time the story circulated, 
and with all the variations commonly attached to interest- 
ing articles of intelligence. I was soon sufficiently re- 
stored to reach the residence of my mother, where a new 
scene of sorrow awaited me. The poor sufferer was beyond 
measure astonished at the step I had so rashly taken, and 
her distress was unutterable. She had promised herself a 
long series of enjoyments, from the happy arrangements 
made for me ; and I suspect she contemplated, at no very 
distant period, a union between Miss Little and myself; 
and her consequent agony, when she learned that I had not 
only abandoned my home and those flattering prospects, 
but that, in consequence of my fixed determination to 
repair to England, she was to lose me, perhaps forever, the 
torture of her mind was, as I said, beyond the reach of 
language. But neither her tears nor entreaties, strongly 
enforced by those of my brothers and sisters, could for a 
. single moment shake my resolution. Whatever barriers 
might oppose my wandering steps, to England I must 
depart. I saw, or seemed to see, the sacred shade of my 
father, first reproaching me, and then soothing me to a 
compliance with the wishes of his mourning family ; and, 
by the anguish of my feelings, my soul was harrowed up ; 
yet still, obdurate as I was, I continued inflexible. I could 
not endure to see, or be seen, in the vicinity of the abode 
which I had quitted ; and I made immediate preparations 
for my departure. I tendered to my disconsolate mother 
the money I had received from Mr. Little, not a penny of 



88 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



which she would accept. "No, my beloved child, if you 
must launch out upon the wide ocean, into a world of 
which you know but little, you will find this sum, large as 
it is, far short of your exigencies. Through your filial 
exertions I am established in a dwelling, far beyond my 
most sanguine expectations, or even wishes ; and from 
your well-timed efforts I derive many other advantages ; 
and if my God is about to deprive me of my son, I doubt 
not his goodness and mercy, which have hitherto followed 
me, will still be manifest, both in my provision and preser- 
vation, and in that of my helpless children." My heart 
seemed ready to burst ; conscience whispered I was acting 
wrong, very wrong ; yet even this conviction could not 
induce a relinquishment of my plan ; an irresistible impulse 
seemed hurrying me. on. Many instances, striking instan- 
ces, in my long and wearisome life combine to prove that 
the way of man is not in himself. I, at least, have experi- 
enced the truth of this sacred testimony. As the time of 
my departure drew near, my feelings were still more keen. 
My mother, my brothers, nry sisters, my friends, renewed 
their tears and entreaties. I could not stem a torrent so 
mighty, and I determined I would abide with them. But 
it was the determination of the moment, extorted by the 
mournful supplications of all who were dear to me ; and 
when they ceased to urge. I resumed my former resolution ; 
and my mother, from early life devoutly religious, mildly 
resigned herself to an event which she considered inevita- 
ble. " I see," said she, " supplications are ineffectual. 
Now I am indeed a widow ! " Starting at the desolate term 
'(widow), so mournfully uttered, I hastened to my chamber, 
and, prostrating myself before the throne of Almighty God, 
I seemed as if I were struggling with the agonies of dis- 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



89 



solving nature. I would infinitely have preferred death, to 
a separation so exquisitely torturing. I besought the God 
of my father to have compassion upon me, never to leave 
nor forsake me ; and while thus humbly and faithfully 
soliciting the Father of my spirit, renewed affiance grew in 
my bosom, and a voice seemed to sa}^, " Go, and lo I am 
with you always." Calmty reposing upon this assurance, 
I retired to rest. I quitted my pillow on the succeeding 
morning wonderfully refreshed. 

It was on that morning that I met, for the last time, in 
the place of my dear, confiding father, his disconsolate 
family. It was, indeed, a time of prayer. My heart 
addressed the Father of mercies. I confessed, with great 
sincerity, my manifold errors ; and I petitioned for a con- 
tinuance of unmerited kindness. I beseeched God to look 
with pity on a poor, destitute, helpless being, commencing a 
journey through a world with which he was unacquainted. 
1 entreated our God, in behalf of my suffering mother and 
her helpless orphans, that he would constantly abide with 
them ; and that he would vouchsafe an answer of peace to 
the many prayers offered up, in their behalf, by the hus- 
band and parent now in glory. My mother was dumb. 
She saw the hand of God in this business, and she believed, 
that, as a sparrow falleth not to the ground without our 
heavenly Father, I could not thus leave my pleasant home 
and wander I knew not whither, except the Lord directed. 
And, embracing me, when on the eve of my departure, she 
affectingly said, " Go, my first-born, nry ever-beloved son ; 
go, and may the God of your father be with you. Go, my 
darling son, on whom, while coining up from this wilder- 
ness, I fondly meant to lean. But God will not allow me to 
lean on any but himself. Go thou, ever dear to my heart, 



90 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



and may our God be still near you, to preserve yon from 
the evil which is in the world. The prayers of your 
afflicted mother shall be continually offered up in your 
behalf; and O my son, although we part, never perhaps to 
meet again in this world, j^et let us meet every day before 
that throne, whence we may expect grace to help in every 
time of need ; let us be present in spirit, thus waiting upon 
the Lord*" She then threw her fond, maternal arms around 
me, once more pressing me to that dear, that faithful 
bosom whence I drew my early nourishment. With tears 
of fond affection she bedewed my face, and again dropping 
upon her knees she once more lifted her streaming e3 r es to 
heaven in my behalf, when, starting up, she hastened to the 
retirement of her chamber, and instantly closed the door. 
I stood like a statue ; I could not move ; I was almost pet- 
rified by sorrow. But from this state of stupefaction I was 
roused by the burst of sorrow and loud lamentations of my 
sisters. I turned to the dear girls. I wept with them, and 
endeavored to give them that consolation which I did not 
myself possess. But, hastening from this scene of sorrow* 
there was one pang which I calculated to escape. The 
youngest child, a beautiful little boy, who bore the name 
of my father, — sweet cherub ! — I dreaded seeing him, and 
determined to spare myself this torture ; but, as I slowly 
and pensively passed from the house, believing that what 
Was worse than the bitterness of death had passed, this 
lovely little fellow crossed my path. Sweet innocent ! thou 
wert playful as the frisking lamb of the pasture, totally 
ignorant of the agonies which wrung the heart of thy 
brother. He ran to me, clung around my knees, and, look- 
ing wishfully in my face, affectingly questioned, " Where 
are you going ? " I could not reply, I attempted to move 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



01 



on. He took hold of my garment. " Let me go with you, 
brother? " He uttered these questions in a voice so plain- 
tive that he pierced my very soul. Surety, had it been 
possible, I should even then have relinquished my purpose. 
It was with difficulty that I extricated myself from this 
supplicating infant, I would have hastened forward, but 
my trembling limbs refused their office. I caught him in 
my arms ; I pressed him to my aching bosom, and but for a 
burst of tears, which came seasonably to nry relief, the 
struggles of my heart must have choked me. I left him, — ~ 
yes, I left this youngest of my father's children, this dear 
object of my soul's affection, this infant charge, committed 
to my care by an expiring father, I left him in the act of 
innocent supplication. I left him when I should, with a 
thousand times less of suffering, have quitted the clay- 
built tabernacle of my spirit ; nor had I aught in prospect 
to compensate the sorrows to which I voluntarily submit- 
ted ! Surety, there is a Hand unseen, which governs the 
human being and all his actions* I repeat, truly the way of 
man is not in himself. Few sufferings could surpass those 
which, upon this occasion, I endured. My bitterest enemy 
could not have censured me with more severity than I cen- 
sured my self. Yet I passed on. No friend could urge my 
return with more energy than did the emotions of my own 
afflicted heart. Yet I passed on. True, I passed on slowly : 
a frame, enfeebled by mental agonies, is not moved without 
difficulty. I had sent my trunk on in the wagon to the city 
of Cork, where I purposed to take passage for England ; 
and with m}^ staff in my hand I passed on, my eyes fixed 
on the ground, not wishing to encounter any human eye. 
It was with much difficulty I attained the summit of a steep 
acclivity, where, spent and weary, I sat me down. From 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MUttHA Y. 



this lofty eminence in full perspective outspread before me, 
was the place from which I had departed. My eye eagerly 
ran over the whole scene. Upon a gentle ascent, directly 
opposite, embosomed in a thick grove of ash, sycamore, 
and fruit-trees, appeared the lovely dwelling of my mother. 
Behind this eminence, still ascending, was outstretched that 
garden, in which, with great delight, I had so often labored ; 
where I had planted herbs, fruits, and flowers, in great 
variety ; and where, as my departure was in the month of 
June, they all flourished in high perfection. It was only 
during the preceding year that I had added to my stock a 
large number of the best fruit-trees, in the full expectation 
of reaping the reward of my labors, through many succes- 
sive seasons. In those tall trees, the cuckoo, the thrush, 
and the blackbird built their nests ; and at early dawn and 
at closing eve I have hung enraptured upon their melodi- 
ous notes. My swimming eye passed from the garden to 
the house. There sat nry weeping, my supplicating mother, 
at that moment, probably, uniting with her deserted chil- 
dren in sending up to heaven petitions for my safety. I 
turned to the right ; there towered the stately mansion I 
was bid to consider as my own ; there dwelt the matron 
who hoped I should have been unto her as a son, and who 
had cherished me as such ; there dwelt the charming young 
lady, whose virtuous attachment might have constituted the 
solace of my existence. The tear of sorrow, the sigh of 
disappointment, no doubt bedewed their cheeks, and swelled 
their faithful bosoms ! And, " Oh ! " I exclaimed, " ma}' 
the balm of peace, may the consolations of the Holy Spirit 
be abundantly shed abroad in your hearts ! " 

As thus, from scene to scene, my eager eye with tear- 
ful haste had wandered, my heart reiterated its unutter- 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



93 



able agonies ; and as I considered my situation as re- 
sembling that of the father of mankind, when driven 
from the paradise, to which state of blessedness it was 
decreed he never was to return, I would gladly have laid 
me down and died. I would have given the world, had it 
been at my disposal, to have reinstated myself in the situa- 
tion and circumstances I had so inconsiderately relin- 
quished ; but this was impossible, and this conviction, — 
how terrible ! I wept, I sobbed. Despair seemed taking 
up its residence in my bosom. I fled from the scene ; again I 
turned, — one more look. I wrung my hands in agony, and 
my heart spontaneously exclaimed, " Dear, ever dear parent, 
once more farewell ! Dear, much-loved sisters, brothers, and 
thou, sweet, innocent, thou smiling, thoughtless, and there- 
fore happy babe, once more farewell ! And you, dear 
second parents, and thou sister of the friend of my soul, 
with the beauteous cherub whose infantile caresses, while 
pouring into my ear the interesting tale, were as balm to 
my wounded spirit, farewell, oh, farewell, forever ! And 
you, 3 r e many kind, religious connections, with whom I 
have often w^ept, and prayed, and joyed, and sorrowed, 
-once more I bid you adieu. Adieu, ye flowery walks, where 
I have spent so many happy hours ; ye thick, embowering 
shades, reared by these hands, ye health-restoring herbs, 
ye sweet, delicious fruits, ye fragrant flowers, receive my 
last farewell ! Still I lingered, — still I gazed around, and 
yet again, another look, — His past, and I am gone forever ! 
I turned from the view, and have never since beheld those 
charming scenes. I wonder much my agitated spirits 
had not induced a fever ; but God preserved me, and, lead- 
ing my mind to the consideration of scenes beyond the 
present state, I was enabled to proceed until I beheld, in 



94 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



perspective, the spires of the opulent city which I was 
approaching. The opening prospect, with the additional 
sound of a fine ring of bells from Shannon steeple, — a church 
standing on an eminence upon the River Lee, the bells of 
which are heard at an immense distance, — gave a new tone 
to my mind. I had many friends in the city of Cork, and 
I endeavored to derive consolation from their unquestioned 
attachment. I had frequently preached in this city, and I 
had reason to suppose my labors had been acceptable. In 
the city of Cork, my paternal grandmother, with her daugh- 
ter, my Aunt Champion and her children, still lived. My 
society would be sought, and I should again be engaged in 
preaching. These considerations lessened the weight of 
affliction by which I had been sorely pressed. I arrived at 
the mansion of my grandmother some time before sunset, 
and I was very joyfully received ; but when I had commu- 
nicated my plan, the countenances both of my grand- 
mother and my aunt decidedly evinced their displeasure. 
They censured me with severity, and I keenly felt their 
rebukes. I assured them I came not to solicit aid ; and, 
rising from my chair, I bade them formally adieu, quitting 
their presence and their house. The eldest daughter of my 
aunt, a very beautiful young lady, and as good as beautiful, 
whose heart was formed for pity and for tenderness, fol- 
lowed me downstairs, and entreated me to continue with 
them. But her well-designed interference was ineffectual. 
I had been severely censured, and I could not bear it. I 
could have borne it better if it had been unmerited. I left 
my lovely cousin in tears, nor did I again see or hear from 
any individual of the family, until one evening after I had 
preached in the Methodist Church, my grandmother ad- 
vanced, took my hand, and requested I would attend her 



LIFE OF REV. JOTIN MURRAY, 



95 



home. I confess I was delighted with her condescension ; 
for my mind had greatly suffered from the reflection that I 
had given pain to the dear and respectable mother of my 
deceased father. I accompanied her home, and we passed 
a happy evening together. Both my grandmother and my 
aunt addressed me in strains the most soothing ; they 
poured into my lacerated mind the oil and wine of consola- 
tion ; they confessed themselves convinced that the good 
hand of God was in my removal. " You are," said the 
pious lady, u you are, my dear child, under the guidance 
of an Omnipotent Power. God has designed you for him- 
self; you are a chosen instrument to give light to your 
fellow-men. You are, I perceive, ordained to turn many 
from darkness unto light, from the power of Satan unto 
God, and the Lord will be with } t ou. The God of your 
father will bless you, and make your way prosperous before' 
yon. Look no more, then, to what } t ou have left behind, but 
look forward in faith, alwa ys remembering that God's works 
of providence are his most holy, wise, and powerful ; preserv- 
ing and governing all Ids creatures, and cdl their actions. 
Do not, I say, reflect upon yourself. I confess I was wrong- 
in censuring you. God's way is in the great deep. We 
-ought to acquiesce in all the dispensations of our Creator. 
You, my dear son, are as clay in his hand. God is as the 
potter, who will do with you as seemeth good in his sight. 
"Who can resist his will? " Thus did this dear lady speak 
peace to a mind that had not for a long season received 
such strong consolation. 

I was urged, while in the city of Cork, to relinquish my 
purpose of going to England. The Methodists solicited 
me to repair to Limerick, where a preacher was much 
wanted ; but nothing could seduce my thoughts from my 



96 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



native island. I frequently mixed in company where relig- 
ious disputes ran very high. The doctrines of election and 
final perseverance were severely reprobated ; but election 
and final perseverance were fundamentals in my creed, and 
were received by me as the doctrines of God. Yet I was 
aware that an attempt to defend principles so obnoxious 
would subject me to the censure and ill-treatment of relig- 
ious enemies, and I had experienced that religious enemies 
were the most to be dreaded. Yet, as I could not be silent, 
and as I dared not dissemble, I contented myself with 
observing that I had been accustomed to hear my respect- 
able father speak in favor of those doctrines. But, although 
in my public labors I never asserted aught that could 
expose me to censure, yet I was more than suspected of 
Calvinism, and consequent resentments were enforced 
against me. My residence in the city of Cork was thus 
rendered unpleasant, and my impatience to embark for 
England was augmented. I was, however, obliged to con- 
tinue two weeks longer, during which period I endeavored 
to live as retired as possible, avoiding controversy, and 
devoting my time to nry grandmother and a few select 
friends. It was during my protracted residence in this 
city that the celebrated Mr. George Whitefield arrived 
there upon a visit. Of Mr. Whitefield I had heard much, 
and I was delighted with an opportunity of seeing, hearing, 
and conversing with so great a man. He was the first 
Calvinistic Methodist I had ever heard, and he became 
very dear to me. I listened with transport. The principles 
early inculcated upon my mind were in full force, and for 
Mr. Whitefield I conceived a very strong passion. He 
appeared to me something more than human. I blushed 
at the view of myself as a preacher, after I had attended 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



97 



upon him ; yet I had the temerity to preach in pulpits 
which he had so well filled ! And I secretly resolved to enter 
into connection with him, if I should be so happy as to 
meet him, after my arrival in London. I had many de- 
lightful opportunities in private circles with this gentleman ; 
he was a most entertaining companion. But, as Mr. Wes- 
ley marked him with a jealous eye, he despatched, by way 
of escort, two of his preachers in whom he particularly con- 
fided, who diligently followed the great man from place to 
place. He was, of course, upon every occasion closely 
watched ; and his facetious observations and frequent gay- 
ety were by these spies severely censured, as descriptive 
of unbecoming levity. In fact, every art was called into 
action to prevent the affections of the people wandering 
from one reformer to another. Yet, while the gentlemen in 
connection with Mr. Wesley were continually upon the 
alert against Mr. Whitefield, he himself evinced not the 
smallest inclination for opposition, or even defence. He 
appeared perfectly content with the enjoyments of the day, 
rather preferring a state of independence, to an intimate 
connection with any sect or party. His choice, at that 
time, was decidedly the life of an itinerant, and he then 
evidently shrunk from the cares and embarrassments at- 
tached to the collecting, building, and repairing churches. 
And never, I believe, did any man in public life enjoy 
more ; he was the admiration of the many, and an object 
of the warmest affection in those social circles in which it 
was his felicity to mingle. The pleasures of the table were 
highly zested by Mr. Whitefield, and it was the pride of 
his friends to procure for him every possible luxury. The 
pleasure I derived from this gentleman's preaching, from 
his society, and from the society of his friends, contributed 
7 



98 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



to lessen the weight of melancholy which depressed my 
spirits on my departure from home. I recollect an evening 
passed with him at the house of one of Mr. Wesley's 
preachers, who had wedded a beautiful young lady of fam- 
ily and fortune, only daughter of a Mrs. , who pos- 
sessed a very large estate, kept her chariot, her city and 
her country house, and entertained much company. Many 
persons were collected upon this evening. I was charmed 
with everything I saw, with everything I heard. I had 
long admirecf the master of the house ; his lady I had never 
before seen. She was the object of general adulation ; her 
person was uncommonly elegant, and her face dazzlingly 
beautiful. She had received a useful as well as a fashionable 
education, and she was mistress of all the polite accom- 
plishments. She had three lovely children, with minds as 
well cultivated as their time of life would permit. I threw 
my eyes upon the happy, the highly favored husband, the 
amiable wife, the fascinating children, the venerable lad}% 
who gave being to this charming wife, mother, friend. I 
beheld the group with rapture ; for envy, as I have else- 
where observed, was never an ingredient in my composition, 
and I hung with a sort of chastened pleasure upon the 
anecdotes furnished by Mr. "Whitefield. The whole scene 
was captivatingly entertaining, and highly interesting. I 
was ready to wish the night might endure forever. Alas ! 
it was but one night. I never after entered that house. 
Happy would it have been for me if I had never seen it ! * 
How mysterious are the ways of Heaven ! This evening, 
upon which I was so highly gratified, was the remote cause 
of my suffering, many years afterwards, great and very 
serious inquietude. I left the house of my friend, Mr. 

* See Chap. VI. for an explanation of this reference. — T. W. 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



Trinbath, expecting to have seen him again and again, 
I left him an object of envy to many ; but I never saw him 
more, nor did he, poor gentleman, long continue the object 
of envy to any one. 

This was the last night I spent in this city, — in this 
country. The vessel in which I had engaged a passage to 
Bristol was now ready for sailing. I had only time upon 
the morning of the ensuing day to bid a hasty adieu to my 
grandmother and her family, with a few other friends, to 
receive their blessings, and to depart. I took my place in 
the vessel at the wharf, some of my friends accompanying 
me thither. I spoke to them with my eyes, with my 
hands ; my tongue refused utterance. 

The beauty of the surrounding- scenes, in passing from 
the city to the cove of Cork, cannot perhaps be surpassed. 
A few miles from the city stands a fortress, then governed 
by a half-brother of my father. I beheld it with a humid 
eye ; but the vessel had a fair wind and we passed it rap- 
idly. I retired to the cabin. My too retentive memory 
retraced the scenes I had witnessed since first I reached 
Hibernia's hospitable shore ; they were many, and to me 
interesting. Reflection became extremely painful, yet it 
was- impossible to avoid it ; and while I was thus retro- 
specting the vessel cut her wa}^ through the harbor ; we 
had reached the cove, we were on the point of leaving the 
land. I jumped upon the deck. I threw my eyes over the 
country I was leaving, which contained all that was dear 
to me either by the ties of blood or friendship. All were 
drawn up in order before mo. It was another parting 
scene. Yet I cherished hope ; I might again return. 
Alas, alas ! this hope was delusive ; it was an everlasting 
adieu. Dear country of guileless and courteous manners, 



100 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



of integrity, and generous hospitality, I bid you adieu. 
Adieu, ye verdant hills, ye fertile valleys, ye gurgling rills, 
which everywhere cross the path of the traveller ; ye 
delicious fruits, ye fragrant flowers, ye sylvan scenes for 
contemplation made, — adieu, perhaps forever ! Here end 
the various hopes and fears which have swelled my bosom 
in a country celebrated for the salubrity of its air, the 
clearness of its waters, the richness of its pastures, and 
the hospitality of its inhabitants ; where no poisonous rep- 
tile could ever yet procure sustenance. 



CHAPTER III. 



ARRIVAL IN ENGLAND, AND FURTHER PROGRESS OF THE 
INEXPERIENCED TRAVELLER. 

Hail, native isle, for deeds of worth renowned, 
By statesmen, patriots, poets, heroes crowned; 
For thee my friends, my weeping friends, I leave; 
To thy blest arms, thy wandering son receive. 

I now began a new era of my melancholy life. Losing 
sight of land, I again retired to my cabin. Alas ! "busy 
thought was too busy for my peace/' Launched upon the 
wide ocean I was speeding to a country, —my native 
country, indeed, but a country in which I could boast 
neither relation nor friend, not even a single acquaintance, 
I was quitting a country in which I had both relations and 
friends, with many pleasant acquaintances. Yet this con- 
sideration did not much depress me ; for, although my 
heart was pained when I reflected on those I was leaving, 
yet I was in raptures at the thought of England. I prom- 
ised myself everything pleasing in England ; yet, in my 
most visionary moments, I could not name a source from 
which I could rationally expect establishment or even tem- 
porary gratification. Several gentlemen were in the cabin, 
who took kind notice of me ; they asked me no questions, 
so I was not embarrassed. But they contributed to render 
my passage agreeable, which, however, was very short ; 
for the identical passage, which, when I accompanied my 

101 



102 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



father, consumed full nine weeks, was now performed in 
three days. But, exempted from those fears and that 
nausea which sometimes afflict fresh-water sailors, I was 
rather pleased with the rapidity of our passage. We 
dropped anchor in Bristol Channel. I was charmed with 
an opportunity of going ashore at Pill, and once more 
greeting the good old lady that had, many years before, so 
tenderly compassionated me when I returned as one from 
the dead to my offended father. Alas ! she was no more. 
This was a disappointment. But I was in England, and 
everything I saw swelled my throbbing bosom to rapture. 
I was determined on walking to Bristol ; it was only five 
miles, and through a most enchanting country. Oh, what 
transport of delight I felt when, with the ensuing morning, 
I commenced my journey ! The birds sweetly carolled, 
the flowers enamelled the meadows, the whole scene was 
paradisiacal. It was England. But where was I going? 
I knew not. How to be employed ? I knew not. But I 
knew I was in England. And, after feasting my eyes and 
ears, I seated niyself upon a verdant bank, where the hot 
wells (so much celebrated as the resort of invalid votaries 
of fashion who come here to kill time, and to protract a 
debilitated existence by the use of the waters) were in full 
view. Here I began seriously to reflect upon my situa- 
tion, and to attend to various questions proposed by a 
certain invisible, my internal monitor, who thus introduced 
the inquiry : " Well, here you are in England ; what are 
you to do?" — Ci God only knows." — " Had you not bet- 
ter apply to him for his direction and protection?" — 
" Certainty ; where has my mind wandered that I have not 
thus done before?" The emotions of my heart were at 
this moment indescribable. When I last gazed upon these 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



103 



scenes my prudent, vigilant father was at my side to guard 
me from evil ; now I had no guide, no counsellor, no pro- 
tector, "Oh, yes," said my monitor, "you have the 
Creator, the Father of your father ; he will be your God, 
and your guide. He will be your protector, your coun- 
sellor, your preserver. He will provide for you; and, if 
you apply to him, he will make your way plain before 
you." My heart, softened and cheered by these consoling 
suggestions, instantly began its supplications. There I 
prayed, and there I remembered Jacob upon the field of 
Padan-aram. I commended myself to the care of the God 
of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob; and I added to 
these names the name of my own father. Thus, by un- 
bosoming myself to the Author of my existence, was my 
spirit greatly refreshed. It is very true I wept, freely 
wept ; but my tears were tears of luxury, and I went on 
my way rejoicing in a hope which gave me, as it were, to 
tread air. I reached Bristol at early dinner. I entered a 
tavern, inquiring if I could be furnished with a dinner. 
They saw I was a stranger, and from Ireland. The master 
of the inn was from the same country. He soon discovered 
I was a Methodist, and, being acquainted with those re- 
ligionists, he invited them to visit me, and I was conse- 
quently introduced to many of the Methodists in that cit}% 
It may be thought strange that, as I had been so much 
(engaged among the Methodists in Ireland, being one of 
their approved preachers, I did not take the steps neces- 
sary to introduce mo among that class of people in 
England. But, beside the jealousy which had taken place 
in the minds of my religious brethren, on account of my 
attachment to the doctrine of election, which made me 
resolve to quit Mr. Wesley's connection, and unite myself 



104 



LIFE OF REV* JOHN MURRAY. 



with the adherents of Mr. Whitefteld, I wished for liberty 
to act myself without restraint. But on being introduced 
I was soon engaged ; attended their meetings and private 
societies, and was admired and caressed, and consequently 
tarried looger than I had proposed, deriving from every 
social interview abundant consolation. Upon the evening 
previous to my departure from Bristol, I was urged to 
visit a society a few miles from the city. It was a pleas- 
ant walk. Several of both sexes were assembled ; they 
were neat in person and correct in manners, and they were 
all English. I was charmed, and, being in good spirits, 
I was thought excellent company. I was then a stranger, 
They were highly pleased. I was requested to pray. I 
did so, and we mingled our tears. I was solicited to con- 
tinue among this people ; but my wishes all pointed to 
London, and to London I must go. I parted with my new 
acquaintance with regret, for I was as much pleased with 
them as they appeared to be with me. Being prevailed 
upon to tarry dinner the next day I did not leave Bristol 
until the afternoon. I then departed alone, determining to 
proceed as far as Bath, and take the stage for London upon 
the ensuing morning. As I passed over one of the most 
charming roads in England, and alone, I had not only 
time for reflection, but my reflections were pensively pleas- 
ing. I was advancing towards the metropolis. Hitherto 
I had experienced the goodness of God, and I indulged 
the most sanguine hopes. My heart was greatly elated, 
I beheld the surrounding scenes with rapture, I was not 
wearied by my walk, — it was only sixteen miles from 
Bristol to Bath. The fields stood thick with corn ; the 
valleys, burdened with an uncommon load of hay, seemed 
to laugh and sing ; and the birds, in their variety, were as 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



If hymning the praises of their Creator; while the setting 
sun heightened the grandeur, and gave the finishing touches 
to the scene. My feelings were" indeed highly wrought 
I proceeded near the margin of a beautiful river. Two 
hay-makers were returning from their toiL I addressed 
them, and in my accustomed manner I expressed my de- 
light and my gratitude. " 1 These,' " said I, in a strain of 
rapture, u ' these are thy glorious w T orks, Parent of good ; 
Almighty Father, thine this universal frame, thus won- 
drous fair — surpassing woader far! Thyself how won- 
drous then ! ' * Tears gushed in my eyes as I thus 
expressed the transport of my soul. The men were 
astonished, yet they seemed pleased. I asked the name 
of the river. They replied, " The Avon, sir." — " Then," 
said I, " it flows through the native place of Shakespeare." 
— "Shakespeare, who is he?" — "A writer," I replied, 
wondering at myself for mentioning his name; but I 
iJiovght of Shakespeare, and I have ever been accustomed 
to think loud. The thought was an addition to my pleas- 
ures, and from the abundance of the heart the mouth 
speaketh. My companions could not fail of discovering 
that I came from Ireland, yet they cast no reflections upon 
me, as is the custom with low people upon these occasions ; 
they were rather disposed to treat me kindly. ■ " I fancy," 
said one of them, "you are a Methodist." — " I am," said 
I ; " I do not deny it" 

" Then my Bess will be glad to see thee, I'll warrant 
me ; wool thee come along with me ? Thee may go farther 
and fare worse, I can tell thee that." — " Ay, ay," said the 
other, " thee had best go with my neighbor. I'll warrant 
thee good cheer." I thanked this kind man, and my heart 
swelled with gratitude to that Being in whose hands are 



106 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY* 



the hearts of all his creatures, for thus meeting me, on my 
entrance into this strange city, with loving-kindness and 
tender mercy. We walked on together mutually delighted ;. 
I, with everything I saw, and my companions with me, for 
my expressed satisfaction. We soon stopped at the door 
of a very neat house. This cannot, said my heart, be the 
dwelling of a haymaker. It was, however, and opening the 
door, he said, " Here, Bess, I have brought thee home 
a young Methodist. I know thee wilt be glad to see him." 
I was then, by this rough, good-hearted man, presented 
to his wife t " Thou must find out his name thyself. " I 
immediately told her my name, when in a friendly manner 
she requested me to be seated. She was a very different 
character from her husband. Her manners were even 
polished. She entered into friendly conversation with me, 
and we derived much satisfaction therefrom ; when her 
husband, entering, inquired in his rough manner, " What 
the plague, Bess, hast got no supper for thy guest ? " This 
was a matter to which we had neither of us recurred. The 
good man, however, was speedily obeyed, and an elegant 
repast was forthwith placed upon the table, of which I par- 
took with appetite. We afterwards sang one of the Metho- 
dist hymns, and we united in solemn prayer. While my heart 
acknowledged all the fervor of devotion, even my host 
himself seemed affected and pleased, declaring he esteemed 
himself fortunate in meeting me. I was introduced to a 
handsome lodging-room, and a good bed ; but the fulness 
of my grateful heart would not, for some time, allow me 
to close my eyes. At length I sunk into the most refresh- 
ing slumber, and I arose the next morning greatly exhila- 
rated. I was received by my hospitable host and hostess 
with every mark of satisfaction, We breakfasted together, 



LIFE OF EEV. JOHN MURRAY. 



107 



sang a hymn, and addressed the throne of grace, when the 
good man went forth to the labors of the field, requesting 
that I would not think of leaving them. In the course of 
the morning the good lady informed me that they had 
recently settled in Bath a Mr. Tucker, who had been a 
preacher in Ireland. My heart leaped at this intelligence. 
Of all the preachers with whom I had ever associated, this 
man possessed the greatest share of my affection. His 
tender, innocent, childlike disposition not only endeared 
him to me, but to all who were acquainted with his worth. 
My hostess was charmed to learn that I was known to Mr, 
Tucker. I solicited her to direct me to his residence, but 
when she informed me that, by the death of his father, he had 
recently come into possession of thirty thousand pounds 
sterling, I became apprehensive I should not be recognized. 
But I had occasion to reproach myself for suspicions, for 
no sooner was I conducted to his dwelling, than he caught 
me in his arms, and expressed the highest satisfaction. 
Upon introducing me to his lady, he said, " My dear, this 
young man is the eldest son of one of the best men I ever 
knew. No man ever possessed a larger share of my vener- 
ating affection. I love this young person as his son, 
. and I love him for himself ; and when you, my dear, know 
him as I do, the goodness of your own heart will compel 
you to love him as I do." How highly gratifying all this 
to me, at such a time, in such a place, and in the presence 
of the lady whose guest I was ! But I must be her guest 
no longer ; this warm-hearted friend of my father and of 
myself would not allow me to leave his house nor the city 
for a long season ; indeed, it was greatly against his will 
that I left Bath when I did. I promised I would call 
every day upon my worthy host and hostess, which 



LIFE OF EEV. JOHN MURRAY. 



promise I punctually performed. Mr, Tucker insisted 
upon my giving them a discourse in the church in which 
he officiated ; for, although possessed of an independent 
fortune, he yet continued to preach to the people. On 
Sunday, then, I preached in the city ©f Bath T to great ac- 
ceptation. My host and hostess (the hospitable haymaker 
and wife) were present, and felicitated themselves that 
they had introduced a man so much approved* 

My reverend friend conducted me from place to place? 
showing me everything curious in that opulent resort of 
the nobility. It was to this faithful friend that 1 communi- 
cated, in confidence, the difficulties under which I labored 
respecting my religious principles. I observed to him 
that I could not, with a good conscience, reprobate doc- 
trines which, as I firmly believed, originated with God 7 
nor advocate sentiments diametrically opposite to what I 
considered as truth. On this account I could not cordially 
unite with Mr. Wesley or his preachers. Mr. Tucker saw 
the force of my objections ; nay, he felt them too, for he 
was at that instant nearly in the same predicament with 
myself. Yet we could not hit upon an expedient to con- 
tinue in the connection and preserve our integrity. My 
anxiety, however, to reach the capital compelled me to 
press forward ; and my kind friend, convinced I was not 
to be prevailed upon further to delay my departure, en- 
gaged a place in the coach for me, discharging all the 
attendant expenses, and placing besides a handsome 
gratuity in my pocket. Of my first host and hostess I 
took a friendly leave. Gratitude has stamped their images 
upon my bosom. I left them, and nry other kind friends, 
in tears. We commended each other to the kind God, 
who, in his own way, careth for us. I have since been 



tLII'E OF EE V. JOTIN MUBfiAY. 



109 



greatly astonished, indeed, I was at the time surprised, at 
sny thus hastening to quit a place where I was furnished 
with everything my heart ought to have desired, when the 
prospect before me was at least uncertain ; but I have 
been, all my days, a mystery to myself,' nor is this mystery 
yet unravelled. I retired this night to bed-, but did not 
olose my eyes until near the dawn of day ^ yet my reflec- 
tions upon my pillow were charming, I clearly saw the 
good hand of Ood in all my movements. I was enchanted 
with every thkig Iliad seen, and with the prospect of what I 
had still to see* Oh, how sweet, in early life, are those 
sensations which, are the offspring of vigorous hope 1 how 
great arc the joys of expectation ! 

No one over derived more high-wrought pleasures from 
hope than myself. I quitted my bed just at the dawn of 
•day, after a refreshing slumber. I had apprised the people 
at the stage-house, the evening before, that I should walk 
on and let the stage overtake me. This I did, and a most 
delightful walk i had. I met the Aurora, the rising sun, 
the waking songsters of the hedges, the lowing tenants of 
the mead, the lusty laborer with his scythe, preparing to 
out down the bending burden of the flowery meadow. The 
-increasing beauty of the surrounding scenes, the fragrant 
scent of the new-mowed hay, all, ail were truly delightful ; 
and thus enchanted, with spirits light as air, I passed on 
till I reached the Devizes, nineteen miles from Bath, where, 
after I had breakfasted, the coach overtook me, in which I was 
soon seated, finding a ride, after walking, more abundantly 
refreshing. We rolled over the finest road in the world with 
such rapidity that we reached London before sunset. 
How much was my heart elated as I passed over this 
charming country ! How did it palpitate with pleasure as I 



110 



1IKE OF It Er. JOHN MURRAY. 



advanced toward the metropolis ! Yet still I bad no fixed 
plan, nor knew I what I should do or whither repair. True, 
I had some letters to deliver, but, in the hurry of my 
spirits, I had forgotten them ; and on being set down at the 
stage-house in London, I left my trunk, without a single 
line of intimation to whom it belonged, and wandered about 
the city, feasting my eyes with the variet}' which it pre- 
sented, " till twilight gray had, in her sober livery, all things- 
clad," when I began to turn my thoughts toward a shelter 
for the night. I entered a tavern, requesting a sapper and 
a lodging, both of which were readily granted. I sat pen- 
sive ; I was weary; my spirits sunk. I ate little, and, retir- 
ing to my chamber, after securing the door, I fell on my 
knees, beseeching the Father of mercies to have compassion 
upon me. I wept, wished myself at home, and my heart 
seemed to die within me at the consideration that I could 
not return without fulfilling the predictions of my matron 
friend. " Ton will return,*' said she, 44 and perhaps find 
this door shut against 3'ou. 7 ' — "Never," said I, "never; 
I will die first.' y This was the most melancholy night I 
had passed since I left the dwelling of my mother. I 
arose in the morning unrefreshed. I inquired where the 
stage put up ; I had forgotten. I told my host I had left 
my trunk at the stage-house. He soon found the place, 
but he despaired of ever obtaining my trunk. I recovered 
it, however, and a porter took it to my lodgings ; there I 
believed it safe, although I knew nothing of the people. I 
recollected where I had lived when with my father in 
this city ; thither I repaired ; but, although there were re- 
maining individuals who remembered him, no one recog- 
nized me. I was, however, kindly noticed for his sake, 
and soon introduced to many, by whom I was much ca- 



LIFE OF 1CEV. JOHN MURRAY. 



Ill 



ressecl. From this I reaped no benefit. A few of my Meth- 
odist friends, whom I had known in Ireland, visited me, but, 
seeing me in company which they did not approve, they 
stood aloof from me. In the judgment of Mr. Wesley and 
his adherents, my principles were against me. Thej^ did 
not believe any man could be pious who believed the doc- 
trine of predestination. I remember, some time after the 
death of my father, sitting with Mr. Wesley in the house of 
jay mother, and conversing on this truly interesting sub- 
ject. I ventured to remark that there were some good 
men who had given their suffrage in favor of the doctrine 
of election, and I produced my father as an instance ; when, 
ia}'ing his hand upon my shoulder with great earnestness, 
he said, " My dear lad, believe me, there never was a man 
in this world who believed the doctrine of Calvin, but the 
language of Ms heart was, ' I may live as I list. 7 " It 
was, as I have before observed, generally believed that I 
inherited the principles of my father. The Methodists in 
London were afraid of me, and I was afraid of them. We 
therefore, as if by mutual consent, avoided each other. My 
wish to attach myself to Mr. Whitefield was still paramount 
in my bosom ; but Mr. Whitefield was not at home, and it 
' was unfortunate for me that he was not. Every day I was 
more and more distinguished ; but it was by those whose 
neglect of me would have been a mercy ; by their nominal 
kindness I was made to taste of pleasures to which I had 
before been a stranger, and those pleasures were eagerly 
zested. I became what is called very good company, and 
I resolved to see and become acquainted with life ; yet I 
determined my knowledge of the town and its pleasures, 
should not affect my standing in the religious world. But I 
was miserably deceived. Gradually my former habits seemed 



212 



jltfe of ekv. janiv murrat- 



to fade from my recollection . To my new connections I giwe 
and received from them what J then believed pleasure 
without alloy. Of music and dancing I was very fond, and; 
I delighted in convivial parties. Yauxhall, the playhouse s y 
were charming. I had never known- life before. It is true, 
my secret Mentor sometimes embittered my enjoyments. 
The precepts, the example, of my father, stared me in the 
face - r the secret sigh of my bosom arose, as I mournfully 
reflected on what I had lost. But I had not sufficient res- 
olution to retrace my steps \ indeed,- 1 had little leisure. I 
was in a perpetual round of company. I was intoxicated 
with pleasure. I was invited into one society and another,, 
until there was hardly a society in London of which I wa& 
not a member. 

How long this life of dissipation would have lasted, had 
not my resources failed, I know not. I occasionally en- 
countered one and another of my religious connections,, 
who seriously expostulated, with me - r but I generally ex- 
torted from them a laugh, which ultimately induced them 
to shun me. I had an interview with Mr. Barnstable, a* 
preacher in Mr. Wesley's connection, and, questioning him 
respecting many whom I had known, he informed me that 
Mr. Trinbath, at whose house I had passed so delightful an 
evening with Mr. White-field,, in the eity of Cork,, was no- 
more ! His beautiful wife had quitted her husband, her 
children, and her mother, and accompanied a private soldier 
to America ! * Her cloating husband,, thus cruelly de- 
ceived, lost first his reason T and afterwards his life. Mr. 
Barnstable inquired what had become of me so long , and* 
after severely admonishing me, he pronounced upon me ant 
anathema, and quitted me. It will be supposed I was not 

* See Cliajp. VI. — T. W. 



LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY, 



113 



touch pleased with him, and assuredly I was at variance 
with myself; and, above all, I was grievously afflicted for 
the misfortunes and death of the once happy Trinbath. It 
has often been a matter of astonishment to me, how, after 
such a religious education as I had received ; after really, 
vitally, entering into the spirit of the life to which I was 
from infancy habituated ; after feelingly bearing my public 
testimony against the follies and the dissipation of the 
many, — I should so entirely renounce a life of serious piet} T , 
and embrace a life of frolic, a life of whim ! It is also 
wonderful, that, thus changed, I proceeded no further ; that 
I was guilty of no flagrant vices ; that I was drawn into no 
fatal snares. Many were the devices employed to entangle 
me, which devices I never deliberately sought to avoid. 
Doubtless I was upheld by the good hand of God ; for 
which sustaining power my full soul offers its grateful 
orisons. 

I pursued this inconsiderate, destructive course upwards 
of a year, never permanently reflecting where I was, or 
how I should terminate my career. My money was nearly 
exhausted ; but this was beneath my consideration ; and, 
as I have said, serious reflection was arrested by large cir- 
cles of friends successively engaging me, either abroad or 
at home, in town or in the country. Thus did my life 
exhibit a constant tissue of folly and indiscretion. But 
the time of my emancipation drew near. A demand, which 
I had barely sufficient to answer, was made upon me by my 
tailor. I started, and stood for some time motionless. The 
money, which I believed would never be expended, was 
already gone. I saw no method of recruiting my finances, 
and I stood appalled, when, at this distressing moment, a 
gay companion broke in upon me. He was on his way to 
8 



114 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



the club. There was to be grand doings^ John Wilke^ 
Esquire, was that night to become a member. I instantly 
forgot everything of & gloomy nature, and went off as light 
as a feathered inhabitant of the air, I never was fond of 
the pleasures of the bottle ; of social pleasures,- no one- 
more so j and that I might enjoy society with an unbroken 
zest, I have frequently thrown the wine under the tables- 
rejoicing that I thus preserved my reason. 

This period of my life had so much of variety, and yet 
so much of sameness, that a picture of a week would be- 
nearly a complete exhibition of all my deviations. Suffice* 
it to say that I plunged into the; v&rtess of pleasure, greedily 
grasping at enjoyments which both my habits and my cir- 
cumstances should have taught me to shsn. Upon this 
subject I do not love to dwell. If possible, I would erase 
it from my recollection ; and yet 1 derive abundant satis- 
faction from the manifestation of divine goodness so strik- 
ingly exemplified through the whole of my wanderings, in; 
preserving me, by the strong arm of the Almighty,- from 
numerous evils to which, in the society I frequented, and in 
the city where I resided, I was hourly exposed. But, as I 
said,- neeessit} T r imperious necessity, compelled me to pause ;". 
and it was, in truth, a blessed' necessity. Had I been 
inclined to forget that my whole stock was expended, the- 
frequent calk made upon me for moneys which I could not 
pay would have constituted a uniform and impressive' 
memento. My embarrassments were soon rumored abroad^ 
and although I had many friends who- appeared to regard- 
money as little as myself, who, declaring they could not 
exist without me, insisted upon my being, of their parties,- 
yet a consciousness of dependence rendered me wretched? 
while indirect remarks, thrown out by some individuals T 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



115 



served to increase my wretchedness. Easter holy days are, 
in England, da}^s of conviviality. Parties of pleasure were 
everywhere forming. My connections were hastening to 
my favorite retreat, Richmond* Inclination led me to join 
them ; but thej T either were not, or I suspected they were 
not, as usual, warm in their solicitations, and I declined a 
less importunate invitation. I, however, took a solitary 
walk, and I met reflection on the way. I had in the world 
but one half-penny, and a mendicant, asking alms, crossed 
my path. I gave him my halfpenny and walked on, till? 
passing out of the city, I advanced into the fields. I began 
to feel exhausted ; and under the wide-spreading shade of 
a tree I sat me down. I continued for some time in a 
state of fixed despair, regardless of life and everything 
which it had to bestow. The eye of retrospection ran over 
past scenes. I remembered my father's house, and the 
plenty which, particularly at this season, reigned there. 
This was nearly the anniversary of his death. The mourn- 
ful scene passed in review before me. His paternal advice, 
his paternal prayers, flashed upon my soul. The eye of my 
mind dwelt upon the family I had deserted. Oh, could 
they now behold me ! Would they not be gratified ? I 
hoped they would. Their pity would have pained me most 
exquisitely. Still my emotions were not of an ameliorating 
description. My heart was indurated, and ? had I possessed 
the means, I should have proceeded in the path of destruc- 
tion. At length I seemed awakened to a full sense of the 
horrors of my situation ; my heart throbbed with anguish 
as I spontaneously exclaimed, " Am I the son of such a 
man, the son of such parents? Am I that pious youth so 
much, and by so many, admired? Am I the preacher, who 
at so early a period preached to others, drawing tears from 



116 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURE At. 



the eyes of those who heard rue? And is it thus my jouf- 
ne}^ to England terminates? Am I now alone and 
unfriended, without an extricating hand to save me? 
Whither, ah ! whither shall I go, and what step is now to 
be taken ?" At this moment the voice of consolation 
vibrated upon my mental ear : " Imitate the prodigal of 
old. Arise, and go unto your Father ; say, I have sinned 
against heaven and in thy sight ; I am no longer worthy to 
be called thy son ; but beseech him, nevertheless, to receive 
you into his service." This counsel, proceeding from a 
quarter from which I had not for a long season heard, 
deeply affected me, and bitterly did I weep in the dread of 
that refusal, which, should I .venture to follow the guidance 
of the monitor within, I was, alas ! but too certain of 
receiving. A thousand thoughts, like a swarm of insects, 
buzzed around me, bat no thought gave me peace. How 
exquisite was the torture which at this moment I suffered ! 
But the approach of evening roused me to a conviction of 
the necessity of moving ; but whither should I go ? that 
was the question. " Suppose," said my invisible monitor, 
"you go to the tabernacle?" and, bursting into a flood of 
tears, I said, "Yes, I will present myself among the mul- 
titude — yes, I will go; but how shall I meet the eye of 
any individual who has formerly known me? How dare I 
stand among the worshippers of that God whom I have so 
grossly offended ? Yet I will go ; " and with slow and 
mournful steps I walked forward. The congregation had 
assembled. I entered, taking my stand under the gallery. 
I dared not raise my eyes ; they were bathed in tears. 
Mr. Whitefield, in his usual energetic manner, addressed 
his audience ; but no sound of consolation reached me. 
At last, he said, " But there may be, in some corner of 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



117 



this house, a poor, desponding, despairing soul, who, hav- 
ing sinned, greatly sinned against God and against him- 
self, may be afraid to lift toward heaven his guilty eye. He 
may, at this moment, be suffering the dreadful consequen- 
ces of his wandering from the sources of true happiness ; 
and possibly he may apprehend he shall never be permitted 
to return ! If there be any one of this description present, 
I have to inform such individual that God is still his loving 
Father ; that he says, ' Return unto me, my poor, backslid- 
ing child, and I will heal your backslidings and love you 
freely/ What message shall I return my Master from you, 
my poor, afflicted, wandering, weeping brother? Shall I 
say, you are suitably penetrated by his gracious invitation, 
and that you would come with weeping and supplication ; 
that you would fly with gratitude and prostrate yourself 
before him, were you not so much injured by your wander- 
ings ; that you feel you are not able, and that you should 
blush to ask his assistance ? Is this your message ? Poor, 
poor soul ! never fear ; your gracious Father will shortly 
send you every needful aid." All this was said to me ; at 
least, to my wondering spirit it thus appeared ; and I 
seemed as if expiring amid the mingling emotions of regret, 
apprehension, and hope. 

I left the tabernacle under these potent impressions ; 
and, crossing Moorfields, I was overtaken by one of my 
old religious connections, who, regarding me with wonder, 
said, " Am I so happy as to see 3-011, one of the many who 
were at the tabernacle this evening ? " My reply was 
indicative of the sorrow of my heart. He proceeded to 
make many remarks, until, in the moment of separation, he 
said, "Well, my friend, perhaps you will go from hence 
into company where you will forget all that you have this 



118 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRA T. 



evening heard." My heart was very full; and from its 
abundance I said, " No, never will I again mingle in circles 
calculated to efface impressions which I will cherish to the 
latest hour of my existence. Let these tears, these fast- 
falling tears, evince my sincerity/' My friend rejoiced in 
the prospect of my returning to the path from which I had 
wandered ; but he rejoiced with fear and trembling. He 
knew my connections were numerous, and that my vivacity 
rendered me the life of those convivial circles where I had 
so long figured. But the grace of God upheld me, and 
never, from that moment, did I unite with those associates, 
from whom I was at first separated by necessity. 

I was now an insulated being. I carefully avoided my 
former companions, and my religious connections avoided 
me ; thus I had now abundant leisure for reflection. Some 
time elapsed before the change which had taken place 
reached the extremity of those circles in which I had 
moved. Many who heard lent no credence to a report 
which they believed without foundation. The greater num- 
ber of those laughter-loving beings who had attached them- 
selves to me, never having imbibed any religious senti- 
ments, had not learned the habits of my former life. Many 
individuals called upon me as usual, and found me a differ- 
ent man from him whom they had been accustomed to see. 
A few, suspecting the cause, sought to relieve my mind by 
warm and liberal assurances of never-failing friendship ; 
and they generously tendered the unlimited use of their 
purses ! I made my acknowledgments ; but assured them, 
the whole world, as a bribe, would be insufficient to lead me 
again into paths of folly. I was not, I said, unhappy 
because I no longer possessed ability to run the career of 
error ; certainly not. My infelicity originated from the con- 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



119 



sideration that I bad ever receded from the paths of peace. 
Some resented my remarks as a tacit insult upon them- 
selves ; others ridiculed me, and pronounced me under the 
influence of a strong delirium ; and two or three, who still 
loved me too well to separate themselves from me, were, 
for a time, induced to reflect seriously upon their own situa- 
tion ; but these, also, shortly disappeared ; and of the 
numerous triflers, with whom I had so many months flut- 
tered, not a single loiterer remained ; and most devoutly 
did I render thanks to Almighty God for extricating me 
from such associates. I boarded in the house of a very 
lively, vivacious man ; indeed, his whole farnity might have 
been denominated sons and daughters of mirth. This fact 
had been their principal recommendation to me ; but it now 
added to the burden of ray mind. 1 made inquiry after 
another lodging; but, on contemplating a removal, difficul- 
ties to which I had not before recurred stared me in the 
face. I was considerably in arrears to nry host, and, as I 
must depart in a different state of mind from that which I 
was in when I became his lodger, and which had impressed 
him in my favor, I could not expect he would be very 
kindly disposed toward me. I was indebted to others, and 
my distresses seemed hourly to accumulate. Both pres- 
ent and future support were alike beyond nry reach, and 
it appeared to me I had attained the climax of misery. I 
closed my door ; I prostrated m} T self before the God who 
had created me. Again my sad, my sorrowing heart, revis- 
ited the home I had abandoned. Stripped of its allure- 
ments, my mad passion for travelling appeared in its 
native deformity. Agonizing dread overtook me, and my 
terrified imagination pointed out and anticipated a thousand 
horrors. Many devices were suggested to my forlorn mind, 



120 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



and death itself was presented as my last resort. But 
starting from an idea so impious, " Let me," I exclaimed, 
" at least avoid plunging into irremediable perdition." Thus 
I spent the day, and in the evening I attended the taberna- 
cle. I considered myself, while there, as the most destitute 
individual in the whole assembly. I generally occupied a 
remote corner ; my arms were folded, my eyes cast down, 
and my tears flowing. Indeed, my eyes were seldom dry, 
and my heart was always full ; for, at this period of my 
life, I rarely tasted anything like consolation. Coming out 
of the tabernacle one evening, a serious young man thus 
accosted me: " Cheer up, thou weeping, sorrowing soul ; 
be of good cheer, thy God will save thee." I caught his 
hand. " God bless j r ou, my dear sir, whoever you are ! 
But you do not know to whom you are speaking." — " Oh, 
yes, I am speaking to a sinner, like myself." — " No, no," 
I returned ; " the wide world does not contain so great a 
sinner as myself ; for, in the face of an education calcu- 
lated to eradicate every evil propensity, and of precepts 
and examples drawn from our most holy religion, which 
ought to have rendered me a uniform servant of the Most 
High, I have mingled in circles, consisting of the idle, the 
dissipated, and the profane. I have run the career of folry, 
and the anguish of my soul is a consequence of my mani- 
fold offences." The kind-hearted young man strove to pour 
into my wounds the oil and wine of consolation. We 
walked together quite through Moorfields. At his request 
I promised to meet him at the tabernacle the ensuing even- 
ing, and I was greatly impatient for the appointed time. 
Passing Moorflelds, agreeably to my engagements, I beheld 
a large congregation assembled to hear one of Mr. Wes- 
ley's preachers. I tarried until I saw the preacher mount 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



121 



the stage, but what were my emotions, when I recognized 
him of whom I was so fond in the house of Mr. Little, and 
who first introduced me as a public speaker. I hastily 
withdrew from the place, terrified, lest his eye should meet 
mine ; but my soul was tortured by the comparison of what 
I was, when I first saw him, with my present -situation. I 
was this evening much affected. Indeed, it was impossible 
for any child of sorrow to attend upon Mr. Whitefield 
without feelings of the most impressive nature. I looked 
around for my companion of the past evening, but I saw 
him not, and I was pained by the disappointment. On 
my departing from the tabernacle, however, he again took 
my hand, assuring me he was glad to see me, and repeating 
a verse of a hyinn : " We shall not always make our moan," 
etc., which hymn I had often sung, and of which I was 
very fond. I melted into tears. This man appeared to me 
as an angel of God, and most devoutly did I bless the 
Father of 1113' spirit for sending me such a comforter. I 
was in haste to unbosom myself to him, to make him 
acquainted with the extent of 1113- errors ; but this was a 
subject upon which he did not seem in haste to hear me. 
He, however, urged me to draw consolation from the prom- 
ises of our God, which he pronounced all yea and amen in 
the Redeemer. He also expressed a wish to meet me at 
the table of the Lord upon the following Sunda}'. For 
this my own heart ardently panted, and I engaged, if pos- 
sible, to obtain a ticket of admittance. My concern for 
my very reprehensible aberrations, as they affected my 
spiritual interest, so complete!)' occupied my mind that I 
had little leisure for reflection upon 1113" pecuniary embar- 
rassments ; yet 1113^ circumstances were truty deplorable. I 
was in debt, without the means of making payment, nor 



122 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



had I any prospect of future support. I disdained to ask 
charity, and the business of which I obtained a superficial 
knowledge in Ireland was not encouraged in London. The 
friend whom I first saw at the tabernacle had continued a 
vigilant observer of my conduct. He had frequently visited 
me, and my eyes convinced Mm I was no longer the gay, 
inconsiderate wanderer, but truly a man of sorrow. Com- 
passionating my sufferings, he invited me to his pleasant 
home, and, in a voice of friendship, requested I would pour 
into his bosom all my griefs. I did so, and his resolution 
was instantly taken. To my great consolation he engaged 
to procure me immediately another lodging, to make my 
present landlord easy, and to procure for me, if I was will- 
ing, the means of future support ; and this, without render- 
ing me dependent, except upon my own regular efforts, 
and the Being who had called me into existence. Let the 
feeling heart judge of the indescribable transports which 
this conversation originated in my soul. Gratitude swelled 
in my bosom. I experienced all its sweet enthusiasm ; and 
hardly could I control my impatience for the execution of 
a plan in every view so desirable. The lodging was imme- 
diately obtained. It was at the house of an old lady in 
Bishopgate's Street, where was appropriated solely to my 
use a neat and well-furnished apartment. 

The succeeding morning this benevolent gentleman at- 
tended me to my late lodging, when, inquiring the amount 
of my debt, I was answered, "Not a penny." I stood 
amazed. " No," said my good-natured host, " not a penny. 
But, pray what is the matter, where have you been, where 
are you going? Oh, dear! oh, dear! these abominable 
Methodists have spoiled as clever a fellow as ever broke 
bread. I suppose you think we are not good enough for you, 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



123 



and so you wish to leave us." I was greatly affected. 
" Excuse me, sir ; 1 do not believe myself a whit better 
than 3 r ou ; but, sir, I am afraid of myself." — " Ah ! you 
have no occasion; Iain sorry you are going, — upon my 
soul I am. You ought to stay and convert me." — " Ah! 
sir, it is God who must convert both you and me." We 
shed tears at parting ; but our tears flowed from a different 
source. He wept that he should no more be amused with 
the whim and frolic of a gay young man ; I, that I had ever 
sojourned in his house. I was, however, suitably im- 
pressed by his kindness, although our intercourse from this 
moment entirely ceased. The following week I obtained a 
situation as one of the aids to an inspector of a broadcloth 
manufactory. I was glad to obtain employment at any 
rate. Yet it is a tact I was never designed for a man of 
business. Nor was I fully satisfied with my associates ; 
they were not in my way, and they, therefore, made me a 
subject of ridicule. This to weak minds is perhaps a 
species of persecution of all others the most difficult to 
endure. I certainly suffered much from it ; but, if I could 
obtain no satisfaction with them, I had the more whenever 
I left them, which was upon the evening of every day and 
the whole of Sunday. I was delighted by the consideration 
that I was living by my own exertions, and in a way 
to discharge debts which were a heav}^ burden upon my 
mind. I lived frugally, retrenching every superfluity, and 
uniformly denying myself all but the absolute necessaries 
of life ; and I had very soon the felicity of knowing that I 
had no longer a creditor. This complete exoneration was 
followed by a newly revived and ecstatic hope of being 
again admitted to my Father's house, from which I once 
feared I was eternally excluded ; and I deemed myself 



124 



LIFE OF REV. J0I7X MURRAY. 



Lapp}*, beyond expression liappj 1 ", upon comparing nryself 
with those among whom I was compelled to live ; who were 
posting, without concern*, in what I deemed the road to 
ruin, from which I had by divine favor been mercifully 
drawn. My bosom swelled with the most delightful sensa- 
tions, while I frequently exclaimed, " Lord, why me? Why 
take me, and leave these poor, unfortunate beings to perish 
in a state of sin and misery?" But such was the sovereign 
will and pleasure of my God ; he would have mercy on 
whom he would have mercy, and whom he would he hard- 
ened. Sometimes, indeed, my soul was sick with doubt 
and apprehension. When engaged in the work of self-ex- 
amination, one evil propensity after another, which I had 
believed dead, seemed to revive in my bosom. I feared 
that my faith was all fancy ; and that the hope which I 
encouraged was the hope of the hypocrite, which would be 
as the giving up of the ghost. Upon these occasions I 
experienced unutterable anguish, and my clays and nights 
were, with very little intermission, devoted to sorrow. The 
distress I so evidently suffered endeared me to my relig- 
ious connections ; every one of whom endeavored to admin- 
ister consolation, encouraging me to cherish hope, from the 
consideration of my despair ! My life was now more active 
than it had ever been, and my connections more numerous. 
I was much occupied by business, yet my hours of devotion 
were sacred. I rose at four o'clock in summer and winter. 
My meals consumed but a small portion of time. The 
moments thus passed by others were by me devoted to 
private prayer. ^Vly evenings were passed at the taberna- 
cle, and when Mr. Whitefield preached my soul was trans- 
ported. I returned home exceedingly refreshed, and, 
prostrating myself at the footstool of my Maker, I acknowl- 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



125 



edged with gratitude the tender mercies of my Redeemer, 
who had graciously separated me from those who were 
murdering their time and their precious souls ; and my 
thanksgivings were reiterated to that God who had merci- 
fully rescued me from enormities so prodigious. Thus 
roiled on the week until Sunday ; to me, indeed, a holy 
day, and one to which I looked forward with the most de- 
lightful anticipations. Upon this morning I arose even 
earlier than usual ; attending either at the tabernacle, or at 
the chapel in Tottenham-court, at which places the com- 
munion was alternately given every Sunday morning. 
Great numbers attended upon these occasions, who were 
not regular tabernacle worshippers ; obtaining a ticket 
of admittance they took their seats. It appeared to me 
like a prelibation of heaven. The elect of God from 
every denomination assembled round the table of the 
Lord ; a word of consolation was always given, and an 
evangelical hymn most delightfully sung. These Sunday 
mornings were, indeed, golden opportunities ; my doubts 
were generally removed, and I came home in raptures. It 
was in such a peacefully religious frame of mind as this 
that I was passing from the tabernacle on a fine summer's 
morning, deriving high satisfaction from the consideration 
that I loved the brethren. I know, said I, internally, that 
I have passed from death unto life, because I love the breth- 
ren. It is true I felt a very strong affection for tho-e with, 
whom I had communed in the tabernacle ; but, passing over 
Moorlields, I saw a crowd of people collected under the 
shade of a large tree. I inquired of a passenger what 
occasioned the assembling of such a multitude ; and I was 
informed one of James Holly's preachers was disseminating 
his damnable doctrines to the infatuated people ! My soul 



126 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



kindled with indignation ; and, from the abundance of a 
heart overflowing with religions zeal, I could not forbear 
exclaiming, " Merciful God ! How is it that thou wilt suffer 
this demon thus to proceed? Are not mankind naturally 
bad enough, but must these wretches be suffered to give 
publicity to tenets so pernicious, so destructive, — thus in 
the name of God doing the work of the devil ? " At this 
period I should have considered myself highly favored to 
have been made an instrument, in the hand of God, for tak- 
ing the life of a man whom I had never heard, nor even 
seen ; and, in destroying him, I should have nothing 
doubted that I had rendered essential service both to the 
Creator and the created, I did not then know how much I 
was L c i ,'ened with the leaven of the Pharisees ; and that, 
notw^y ftanding my assurance of having passed from death 
unto h in consequence of loving the brethren, this boasted 
love extended to none but those of nry own persuasion. I 
alwaj's returned from the tabernacle with my heart filled 
with religious zeal. The intermission of public worship 
was always appropriated to private devotion ; in a word, 
all my devotional habits were restored, and my Sunday s 
were an exact transcript of those which I had passed in the 
family of my father. The Sundays upon which I took my 
seat at the communion table in the chapel were more abun- 
dantly fatiguing. The chapel was some miles from my 
lodgings ; but I never absented myself either summer or 
winter, and I greatly exulted when I was the first who ap- 
peared within its consecrated walls. The more I suffered 
in reaching this place, the more I enjoyed when there. 
And often while passing the streets of London in the midst 
of rain or snow, my heart has swelled with transport in the 
thought that I was going to heaven by means of these diffi- 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



127 



eulties and trials ; while the many who were then sleeping 
were suspended over the pit of destruction, into which they 
must one day fall, to rise again no more forever. And 
why, oh, why, I used to repeat, am I snatched as a brand 
from the burning? Why am I, an offender against light, 
precept, and example, made a blessed heir of heaven, while 
far the greater part of my species are consigned to endless 
misery? There were a number of young people of both 
sexes, who, having assembled from a great distance, could 
not return home after service in season for breakfast. One 
of the society kept a house near the chapel, where individ- 
uals thus circumstanced were accommodated. There we 
often collected, and our opportunities were delightful. Be- 
ing remarkable for a humble demeanor, I was (L • this 
account much noticed and caressed; and I rafetypd iitted 
the assembly without a heart overflowing with lo> ; e and 
gratitude toward God and his dear children, I was not 
confined to any particular place of worship. I was accus- 
tomed to present myself, at the stated times, in various 
congregations. Wherever I heard of a great man, I made 
a point of attending upon his labors. Among the many 
places of public worship to which I resorted, there was a' 
Baptist meeting, where I obtained great satisfaction. The 
minister was a warm, animated preacher, and the people un- 
commonly serious. To this house man}' of the tabernacle 
adherents resorted ; for, at this time, there was no service 
at that place, except in the morning and evening. In a 
Vestry attached to the Baptist meeting many of the con- 
gregation met before the commencement of divine service, 
and some of them alternately sang and prayed. By those 
persons I was received with great kindness. This affected 
me exceedingly ; and, perceiving that it did, they loved me 



128 



LlEE OF REV. JORN MURRAY. 



yet more for the value I evidently set upon their affection, 
till, at length, I became an object of general attention. 
United plans were laid to draw me out, and I had pressing- 
invitations to their religious societies, and afterwards to 
their houses, The minister distinguished me ; solicited me 
to visit him ; and delighted to speak peace to me, both 
publicly and privately. I was entreated to pray in the 
society, which, as a timid and unpatronized stranger, I had 
so recently entered ! I complied, and every one seemed 
affected. I myself was greatly moved, deeply penetrated by 
reflection upon what I had been, and what I then was, and 
my soul was transported by the consideration that I was 
readmitted into the society of the people of God. My 
presence was now anxiously expected in the congregation, 
and at the house of many individuals. I was marked by 
those who attended at the tabernacle, and many other 
places of worship ; and I was so much caressed by serious 
people of sundry persuasions, that, when I have been 
asked what denomination I was of, I have replied, an inde- 
pendent Baptist, Methodist, Churchman. I hardly knew 
which of those I liked best, or loved most ; and Mr. White- 
field, upon whom they all occasionally attended, strove, 
both by precept and example, to convince us that a differ- 
ence respecting non-essentials was utterly inconsistent 
with the Christian character. 

Among the many who extended to me the hand of amity 
was a merchant, who never appeared so happy as when 
conversing with me. He received me into his house, and 
employed me in his counting-room. Here I fancied my cir- 
cumstances improved, but I was deceived. This gentle- 
man was a mere superficial professor of religion, which, 
when I discovered, I determined to return to my former 



LIFE OF REV. JOIIN MURRAY. 



129 



situation. I had paid all my debts. I was easy, and oc- 
casionally happy, and I allowed myself many little indul- 
gences, which, while a debtor, I should have believed 
criminal. 

The leaving my new patron gave me, however, some 
pain ; he had a very high opinion of me, although I could 
not reciprocate his esteem. He was ambitious of obtaining 
a name in the church, and for this purpose he contemplated 
the observance of morning and evening prayer in his family ; 
but, not being an early riser, he was at a loss to know how 
to reconcile his devotions with his business. At last he 
said, " You, my friend, are accustomed to perform the 
honors of my table. If you prolong your grace at break- 
fast, it will answer for morning prayer ! " Greatly shocked, 
and completely disgusted, my determination to quit him 
was confirmed. I was still very communicative, and, con- 
sequently, the reason of my departure was generally known ; 
so that my once warm friend was, as may be supposed, con- 
verted into a bitter enemy . I was, however, rather com- 
mended than censured, while the conduct of the man of 
business excited general contempt. This gratified me. 
Alas ! the piety of this world is based on pride. I now 
became, as far as I was known, an object of attention 
in every place where vital religion, as it was phrased, 
obtained its votaries. Mr. Romaine, Mr. Jones, and many 
other clergymen distinguished me. Hints were thrown 
out respecting my once more coming forward as a public 
teacher; but against this I was determined. I was aston- 
ished that I had ever dared to venture upon so responsible 
an assumption ! As the eternal well-being of the many was 
supposed to rest with the preacher, an error in judgment 
would consequently be fatal to his hearers ; and as I had 
9 



130 



LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 



now learned that I was not perfect in knowledge, I could not 
be assured I should not lead the people astray ; in which 
tremendous event they would, to all eternity, be imprecating 
curses on my head. Considerations of such magnitude 
were sufficient to seal my lips ; but I was characterized as 
a pattern of piety, and m} r experiences were greedily sought 
by individuals of various denominations. There was a 
society, belongiug to a Baptist meeting, near Good Man's 
Fields, which met statedly at each other's houses once every 
week ; this was the societ} r , in which I was most admired, 
and to which, of course, I was the most attached. In this 
society there were individuals who, like myself, were taber- 
nacle worshippers, but who attended this meeting when 
there was no service there. I had surrendered up my whole 
soul to those religious exercises, which the several societies 
to which I had attached myself demanded. My plan was 
to devote myself wholly to my God, to the advancement of 
my spiritual interest, to considerations pertaining to the 
kingdom of heaven. Wedded life, a family, these made no 
part of my plan. I was persuaded I should pass my life in 
celibacy ; and, had monastic seclusion consisted with Prot- 
estantism, I should gladly have embraced its retirement, 
with its duties. In the society collected near Good Man's 
Fields there was a young gentleman remarkable for the 
sanctity of his manners ; we were strongly and mutually 
attached to each other. Many, very man}^ happy hours did 
we pass together. During the winter, we were constantly 
at the tabernacle before day. We narrated to each other 
our experiences; we pra} T ed, we wept, we joyed, and sor- 
rowed together ; and, with unfeigned affection, we loved 
one another. I questioned him respecting his connexions, 
when he informed me that his parents had died in his in- 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



131 



fancy ; that he had been brought np by his grandfather, 
who was a very profligate old gentleman, and abhorred the 
very name of Whitefield ! But, he added, that, through the 
mercy of God, he was not entirely alone, — he had a sister 
with him in the family, reared also by his grandparent, 
who was a good and gracious girl ; that their nights were 
frequently devoted to prayer ; but that they dared not let 
their grandfather know that they had ever been seen at the 
tabernacle, or in any of those societies from which they 
derived their chief happiness. Indeed, he observed, his 
sister seldom ventured out ; but he had made such repre- 
sentations of me, that she had desired him to let her know, 
when I should again meet the Baptist society, and she 
would make a point of being there ; " and, I request you," 
said he, " my dear sir, to be at the society next Sunday 
evening, and she will most unquestionably be there." I 
cannot sny I had any curiosity respect ing this young lady ; 
but Sunday night came ; I was expected, and the great room 
was filled previous to my arrival. I entered ; every one rose 
at my entrance, and I felt dignifiedly pious, seriously happy. 
My young friend approached, and told me, in a whisper, 
his sister would have been greatly disappointed had an3 r - 
thing detained me that evening. On my entrance I had 
glanced at a 3 T oung lady, extremely beautiful, who appeared 
attired by the hand of elegance. It was with difficulty I 
could take my eyes from her ! I was confounded. I changed 
my seat, that I might not behold her, and, when thus ad- 
dressed by Mr. Neale, I responded by asking where his 
sister was seated, when he pointed to the fascinating figure, 
who had so imposingly attracted my attention. " That 
young lady, sir, is Miss Neale — nry sister. She has long 
wished for an opportunity of seeing you. T am happy that 



132 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



she is now gratified." An introduction was in course. I 
had much to say through the evening, and my friend de- 
clared I had never spoken better. I addressed the throne 
of grace. My own heart was softened, and the hearts of my 
audience were softened also. I returned home ; but the 
beauteous image of the sister of my friend accompanied me ! 
I could not for a moment exclude the lovely intruder from 
my imagination. I was alarmed. I wept, I prayed ; but 
every effort was fruitless ; the more I strove to forget her, 
the more she was remembered. I was impatient to behold 
her again, yet I most devoutly wished we had never met. 
I was convinced my peace, my happiness, were forever fled ! 
This was truly astonishing, — I had recently been so positive 
that the combined sex did not possess the power to engage 
my attention for a single moment. Some time elapsed, 
during which the captivating engrosser of my heart never 
relinquished, no, not for a single instant, that entire pos- 
session which she had taken of my imagination ; when, 
after an evening lecture, while the congregation were 
quitting the meeting-house, a lad}', who kept a boarding- 
school for young ladies, requested I would pass the next 
evening at her house, as her young people were to collect 
their friends, and she wished some one to introduce relig- 
ious conversation. I had no inclination to accept this in- 
vitation, and I accordingly made my excuses ; but the good 
lady continued to press me, and added, I expect Miss Neale 
will be of the party. Of this imposing article of intelli- 
gence I experienced the full force ; but I endeavored to 
disguise my emotions ; and, the request being once more 
repeated, I consented, and returned home, notwithstanding 
all my resolutions, transported with the prospect of once 
more beholding the dear object of my admiration. That I 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



133 



was now become a real lover, there could be no doubt. I 
was early at the place appointed, and my enraptured heart 
danced with joy when I once more beheld the triumphant 
fair one. I was happy to observe that she regarded me with 
marked attention, but her predilection was rather for the 
Christian than the man. I was, however, beyond expres- 
sion elated, and my conversation partook of the elevation 
of my soul. The evening was nothing; it was gone ere I 
was sensible it had well commenced. Eliza, for that was 
her fascinating name, arose to take leave. I was greatly 
chagrined. I had calculated upon attending her home ; but 
a confidential friend had been sent to take charge of her. I 
ventured, however, to express a hope that I should see her 
at Mrs. Allen's, a friend warmly attached to us both, on 
the following Wednesday evening. She modestly replied, 
she would endeavor to be there ; and in the interim I 
sought to learn if she were disengaged ; but I could obtain 
no satisfactory information. The appointed evening was 
passed most delightfully, at Mrs. Allen's. I had the felicity 
of attending the young lad} 7 home, and the temerity to ask 
such questions as extorted an acknowledgment that she 
was not engaged. With trembling eagerness 1 then ven- 
tured to propose myself as a candidate for her favor. 
"Alas! sir," she replied, "3-011 have formed too high an 
opinion of my character. I trust you will meet a person 
much more deserving of you than I can pretend to be." I 
re-urged my suit, with all the fervor which youth and an 
irrepressible passion could furnish. Her answer is indeli- 
bly engraven upon the tablets of my memoiy. " You and 
I, sir, profess to believe in an overruling Providence ; we 
have both access to the throne of our heavenly Father. Let 
us, sir, unbosom ourselves to our God. I shall, I do assure 



134 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



yow ; so, I am persuaded, will you ; and if, after we have 
thus done, we obtain the sanction of the Most High, I trust 
I shall be resigned." 

We had now reached her habitation, the threshold of 
which no professed follower of Whitefield was ever allowed 
to pass. I supplicated for permission to write to her ; and, 
in the full confidence of Christian amity, she acceded to 
the prayer of my petition. From this period, no week 
passed during which we did not exchange letters ; and the 
pages we filled might have been submitted to the most 
rigid inspection. Mrs. Allen was our confidant, and 
every letter which passed between us was put into the 
hand of this discreet matron, without a seal. At the house 
of this lady we had frequent interviews, but never without 
witnesses, and our time was passed in singing hymns 'and 
in devout prayer. I now believed myself the happiest 
being in creation. I was certain of possessing a most 
inestimable treasure ; and although the grandfather of my 
Eliza, upon whom rested her whole dependence, never saw 
me, and if he had, never would have sanctioned our 
union, we cherished that hope which so generally proves 
fallacious. The dear girl requested me to seek and obtain 
the explicit approbation of her brother, that she might at 
least insure his countenance ; and upon my application 
to him, he unhesitatingly replied, " I consider, dear sir, 
my sister as highly honored by your proposals." — "But, 
sir, have we your consent?" — " Undoubted ly, sir, and with 
my whole heart." This was sufficient, and I was com- 
pletely happy. But, alas ! "Never did the course of true 
love run smooth." We were on the verge of a most dis- 
tressing calamity. This brother, in whom we had reposed 
unlimited confidence, became my inveterate foe, and, writ- 



LIFE OF REV* JOHN MURRAY, 



135 



ing an anonymous letter to his grandfather, he represented 
me as a fortune-hunter, who was seeking to obtain the 
heart of his grand-daughter, for the purpose of making a 
prey of her property ! This letter produced the desired 
effect. The old gentleman was extremely irritated, and, 
sending for Eliza, he put the letter into her hand, and 
sternly asked her if she had entered into any engagement 
with a person by the name of Murray : when, receiving 
an answer in the affirmative, he gave full credit to all the 
rest, and, being a man of violent passions, he threatened 
her with the loss of his favor, if she did not immediately 
promise to renounce me forever. He was well apprised, 
if he could obtain her promise, he had nothing further to 
apprehend. The firm, self-collected girl implored his par- 
don if she did not yield credence to the slanders contained 
in the despicable scrawl he had placed in her hand. She 
besought him to see me, to converse with me ; promising, 
that if, upon a personal acquaintance, he continued to dis- 
approve, she would endeavor to bend her mind to an ac- 
quiescence with his will. Her grandfather was inexorable. 
He would admit no conditions, and ultimately assured 
the young lady, if she did not relinquish every thought of 
me, she might give up all idea of ever receiving a single 
penny of his property. He granted her three days for de- 
liberation, during which period she was to consider herself 
a prisoner. Of this unexpected event I speedily gained 
intelligence, and my soul was torn by apprehension. To 
Eliza I could have no access, and even the intercourse by 
letter was suspended. In this state of agonizing suspense, 
I remained, until, through the instrumentality of the 
chambermaid, a letter was brought to Mrs. Allen for me ; 
which letter, while it gave a most affecting detail of her 



136 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



sufferings, contained the fullest assurance of her unbroken 
faith and steadfastness. She recommended it to me to 
apply to the same Source from whence she herself had de- 
rived consolation, — to the Almighty Father of our spirits, 
who held in his hands all hearts ; and she added that no 
power short of Omnipotence should ever prevail upon her 
to give her hand unaccompanied by her heart ; and that 
in a few hours she should be so circumstanced as to prove 
the sincerity of my affection, for she was speedily to render 
her final answer to her grandfather. She hoped for divine 
support during the arduous trial to which she was called 
to submit ; and she most earnestly solicited my prayers in 
her behalf. A second letter was soon handed me, giving 
an account of the second interview. "Well, my dear 
child," said the old gentleman, "what am I to expect? 
Am I to lose my daughter, the comfort of my declining 
life ? Or will you have compassion upon my old age, and 
relinquish this interested, designing man? " — " If, my dear 
sir, I had any reason for supposing the person of whom 
you speak, such as you believe him, the relinquishment 
which you require would not cost an effort ; but, sir, Mr. 
Murray is an honest man. He has a sincere affection for 
me. I have given him reason to hope, and, until I am con- 
vinced he is unworthy of my esteem, I cannot consent to 
treat him as if he were." Here the passions of the old 
gentleman began to rise, when the dear girl besought him 
to be calm, assuring him it was neither her wish nor in- 
tention to leave him. Nay, more, she would pledge her 
word never to leave him, while she could have the felicity 
of attending upon him, if he w^ould not insist upon her 
violating her faith, tacitly given to me. But this would 
not do. She must abandon her lover or her fortune. And 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



137 



finding her determined, he arose from his chair, and 
seizing his will, in which he had bequeathed her one 
thousand pounds sterling, he furiously flung it into the 
flames, immediately causing another will to be written, in 
which he gave to her brother the portion designed for her. 
And thus did this young incendiary obtain the object for 
which he had labored, and to which he had most nefariously 
and darkly groped his way. I had now the felicity of 
learning that my Eliza had a stronger value for me than 
for her patrimony ; and she observed to her grandfather 
that he had furnished her with an opportunity of proving 
the sincerity of my attachment. " If," said she, " his 
views are such as you have been taught to believe, he will 
shortly relinquish me, and thus have I, most opportunely, 
obtained a criterion." Never did 1 receive a piece of in- 
telligence productive of so much heartfelt pleasure as the 
certainty of that potent prepossession which could thus 
enable her, whom I esteemed the most perfect of human 
beings, to surrender up, without a sigh, the gifts of fortune. 
Words cannot delineate how greatly I conceived myself 
enriched by this blissful assurance. Still I met the brother 
of Eliza at the tabernacle, and occasionally at private 
societies, and still he wore the semblance of amity. 
Previous to this event, the elder Mr. Ncale, who was 
alwaj's my friend, had become the head of a family. Dur- 
ing a few weeks we continued in that condition, when my 
invidious calumniator requested me, by a written message, 
to give him a meeting at the house of his aunt, a lady who 
resided next door to his grandfather. I obeyed the sum- 
mons, when, to my great astonishment, he informed me it 
was his sister's wish I would think of her no more ; that 
there were many young ladies with whom I might form 



138 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN HURRA F. 



a connection abundantly more advantageous, and that 
for herself she was weary of contending with her grand- 
father. During the whole of this studied harangue, the 
torture of my soul was scarcely to be endured. After a 
most distressing pause, I tremblingly interrogated, " Tell 
me, sir, has Miss Neale really empowered you to act in 
her behalf ? " — " If you doubt it, here is a letter, written 
with her own hand, furnished me upon a presumption that 
I might not obtain a speedy opportunity of seeing you." 
And he put the letter into my hand. Mr. Neale knew not 
that I was in possession of many of his sister's letters. 
He knew not that she had ever written to me ; if he had, he 
would hardly have exhibited this scrawl as hers. The 
anguish of my soul was no more. Yet I essa}^ed to con- 
ceal my emotions, and contented myself with solemnly 
declaring that it was only from the lips of Miss Neale I 
would accept my dismission, " You may," said he, " rest 
assured you will never, with her own consent, again see 
that young lady." Thus spake, thus acted, the man 
whom, the very next morning, I met at Mr. Whitefield's 
communion. Leaving Mr. Neale, I returned to my lodg- 
ings, sat down and related to Eliza the whole business, 
enclosing the letter I had received as hers. The ensuing 
clay gave me an assurance, under her own hand, that the 
whole procedure was unknown to her ; requesting that I 
would remain perfectly easy ; that I would keep my mind 
entirely to m} T self, making application only to the wonder- 
ful Counsellor, and resting in full assurance of her ndelit}^. 
This was enough, and my full soul rejoiced in the consola- 
tion thus seasonably afforded me. Mr. Neale, supposing 
his arts had succeeded, brought forward proposals in favor 
of a gentleman educated by his grandfather, who had long 



LIFE VP REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



139 



loved my Eliza ; but who, fearful of a rejection, had not 
disclosed his passion. Common fame soon wafted to my 
car the report of these new pretensions. The gentleman 
was, in every respect, ray superior, and he was declared 
a successful rival, I met the object of my soul's affection 
at Mrs. Allen's, I communicated the lacerating intelli- 
gence I had received. She smiled, tacitly assured me I 
had not much to apprehend, and, according to custom, 
added, " Let us improve our opportunity in the best possible 
manner ^ let us devote it to prayer and to praise." Thus 
revolved days, weeks, and months ; hoping and fearing, 
joying and sorrowing, while my gentle, my amiable friend, 
gainfully reciprocated every anxiety. It was supposed by 
lier connexions, that she had relinquished her purpose in 
my favor, and a succession of advantageous proposals were 
brought forward, all of which she decisively rejected. 
Once a week she vras permitted to visit, when she never 
forgot to call upon Mrs. Allen. She also allowed me to 
attend her every Sunday morning before day during the 
winter ; and I considered myself supremely happy in the 
privilege of presenting myself at her dwelling on those 
holy days, by four o'clock, waiting her appearance. And 
often have I been ej r ed with suspicion by the watch, and, 
In fact, I was once taken up. Neither storms nor tempests 
arrested my steps. And sometimes I have tarried, until 
the dawning day compelled me to retire, when I was 
obliged to pass on in melancholy solitude to the tabernacle. 
Yet, between love and devotion, I was a very happy, very 
■disconsolate being. I richly enjoyed the pleasures of an- 
ticipation, which are generally believed to exceed posses- 
sion ; yet my own experience is very far from acknowledg- 
ing the justice of this hypothesis. I continued in this 



140 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



state more than a year, snatching enjoyments when I could, 
and placing confidence in futurity. In the course of this 
year, my insidious, although still professing friend married 
a lady of some property, — - two thousand pounds sterling ; 
his grandfather adding two thousand more, one of which 
he had designed as provision for his grand-daughter. And, 
strange as it may appear, this angel girl uttered not, upon 
this occasion, a single reproach 1 The new alliance 
strengthened the family interest against me ; the lady, with- 
out knowing me, was my inveterate foe. It was about this 
time discovered that the attachment of Eliza remained 
in full force. Her grandfather imagined that we cherished 
hope of a change in his sentiments, or that we should 
ultimately, at least in the event of his death, come into 
possession of some part of his property ; and, that he 
might effectually crush every expectation, he so managed 
as to put his most valuable possessions out of his own 
power. The period at length arrived which completed 
the minority of my tender friend. It was upon the eigh- 
teenth clay of May, and this day the elder Mr. Neale, who, 
as has been observed, had still continued my fast friend, 
determined to render a gala, by passing it with me in the 
country. "With the early dawn we commenced our little 
excursion, when we beheld, at a distance, a young lady 
with a small parcel in her hand. We approached her, and, 
to our great astonishment, recognized in this young lady 
the sister of my friend, the precious object of my most 
ardent love. Upon that memorable morning she had 
quitted the house of her grandfather and all she possessed 
that had been his, leaving upon her writing-desk a letter, 
which lay there, until the family, alarmed at her not making 
her appearance at the breakfast-table,, entered her apart- | 



LIFE VF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 



141 



merit, whence the lovely sufferer had so recently flown. 
The letter furnished an explanation. It was addressed to 
lier grandfather, and it informed hini that the writer 
would ever acknowledge unreturnable obligations for the 
•many favors he had conferred upon her ; that, if she could 
have been indulged with her wish of living with him, she 
should have been content ; but, as the solicitations to enter 
Into matrimonial engagements,, by which she was persecuted, 
were unceasing, she was convinced she should not be 
allowed to give this testimony of her filial attachment ; 
and, being* now of age, she begged leave to deliver up the 
keys, the sums of money with which she had been en- 
trusted, and whatever else had pertained to her grand- 
father^ adding an assurance that she should no more 
return. Her brother William immediately conducted her 
to his house, whither I attended them, and where, by her 
positive orders, we were obliged to leave her. Agreeably 
to her request, we proceeded on our proposed walk, and we 
learned on our return that repeated messengers had been 
despatched by her grandfather, soliciting her again to be- 
come an inmate in his house, and that the lady of 
her youngest brother had been commissioned for this pur- 
pose ; but that every entreaty had proved ineffectual. For 
•me, fondly flattering myself that I should immediately 
exchange my vows with my amiable, my affianced friend, 
at the altar of our God, I was superlatively happy. But 
again ray high-wrought expectations proved fallacious. 
This strong-minded woman was a votary of propriety, and 
she was determined it should not appear that she had 
quitted a parent for the purpose of throwing herself into 
the arms of a husband. She had bid adieu to the paternal 
roof, because she could not, while there* be allowed the ex- 



142 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



ercise of her own judgment ; because measures were 
taking to compel her to marry a man she could never 
approve. Her eldest brother, her beloved William, she 
•was confident would patronize and protect her ; and her 
needle was a resource from which she could always derive 
a competency. 



CHAPTER IV. 



THE AUTHOR BECOMES A HAPPY HUSBAND, A HAPPY FATHER. 

HE EMBRACES " THE TRUTH AS IT IS IN JESUS ; " AND 

FROM THIS AND OTHER COMBINING- CAUSES HE IS IN- 
VOLVED IN GREAT DIFFICULTIES. DEATH DEPRIVES HIM 

OF HIS WEDDED FRIEND, AND OF HIS INFANT SON, AND 
HE IS OVERTAKEN BY A SERIES OF CALAMITIES. 

Hail I wedded love I connubial friendship, hail J 
Based on esteem, if love supplies the gale, 
Borne on life's stream, we cut our balmy way, 
On smooth seas wafted to the realms of day. 

After six tedious months from the morning of my 
Eliza's departure from the mansion of her grandfather 
had completed their tardy round, yielding to my unre- 
mitted importunities, she consented to accompany me to 
the altar. We were attended by William and his lady, 
with our dear Mrs. Allen. And I received from the hands 
of our very dear brother an inestimable treasure, which 
constituted me, in my own estimation, the happiest of 
human beings. As I had no house prepared, I gratefully 
accepted the kindness of this beloved brother, who invited 
us to tarry with him until we could accommodate ourselves. 
And, if I except one unhappy misunderstanding which 
took place soon after our marriage, no wedded pair were 
ever blessed with more unbroken felicity. The disagree- 
ment to which I advert would not have continued so long 
but for the instigations of our brother William, who in- 

143 



U4 



LIFE OF KEY. JOBN MURRAY* 



sisted upon my supporting, what he called my dignity- 
which, as he said, could only be maintained by the submis- 
sion of my wife. The quarrel 7 like the quarrels of most- 
married people, originated in a? mere trifle ; but the ques- 
tion was- who should make the first conciliatory advances. 
For two days we did not exchange a single word, Wil- 
liam* still imposingly urging me nerer to surrender my 
prerogative. At length, unable to endure such a state of 
wretchedness?- I told William I would not lire another 
hour in such a situation. He only ridiculed me for my 
folly, and hade me take the consequence. I T however, en- 
tered! the chamber of my wife, and T extending my hand 7 
most affectionately said, " My soul's best treasure, let u& 
no longer continue this state of mournful estrangement. 
For the world I would not thus live another day, Wl^,. 
my love f our sorrows will arise from a thousand sources ; 
let us not render each other miserable/' The dear girl 
burst into tears, and, throwing her faithful arms around 
me, sobbed upon my bosom, with difficulty articulating,. 
"O my precious friend! you have, as 3-011 always will 
have, the superiority. God forever bless my faithful, my 
condescending husband.' 7 From this moment we bade 
adieu to dissension of ever}' description, successfully 
cultivating that harmony of disposition and augmenting 
confidence which cannot fail of insuring domestic felicity. 
We soon removed to a house of our own ; and there, as I 
believe, enjoyed as much of happiness as ever fell to the 
lot of humanity. Yet, although thus satisfied with each 
other, there were sources of inquietude which created lis- 
some distress. I had heard much of Mr. Relly ; he was a 
conscientious and zealous preacher in the city of London. 
He had, through many revolving years, continued faithful 



LIFE OF REV. JOITX MURRAY. 



145 



to the -ministry committed to him, and he was the theme 
of every religious sect. He appeared, as he was repre- 
sented to me, nighty erroneous ; and my indignation 
against him, as has already been seen, was very strong. 
I had frequently been solicited to hear him, merely that I 
might be an ear-witness of what were termed his blas- 
phemies: but I arrogantly said I would not be a murderer 
of time. Thus I passed on for a number of years, hearing 
all manner of evil said of Mr. Relty, and believing all I 
heard, while every day augmented the inveterate hatred 
which I bore the man and his adherents. When a wor- 
shipping brother or sister belonging to the communion 
which I considered as honored by the approbation of 
Deity was, by this deceiver, drawn from the paths of 
rectitude, the anguish of my spirit was indescribable ; 
and I was ready to say the secular arm ought to interpose 
to prevent the perdition of souls. I recollect one instance 
in particular which pierced me to the soul. A young lady 
of irreproachable life, remarkable for piety, and highly 
respected by the tabernacle congregation and church, of 
which I was a devout member, had been ensnared. To 
my great astonishment she had been induced to hear, and, 
having heard, she had embraced the pernicious errors of 
this detestable babbler. She was become a believer, a 
firm and unwavering believer of universal , redemption. 
Horrible ! most horrible ! So high an opinion was enter- 
tained of nry talents, having myself been a teacher among 
the Methodists, and such was my standing in Mr. While- 
field's church, that I was deemed adequate to reclaiming 
this wanderer, and I was strongly urged to the pursuit. 
The poor, deluded young woman was abundantly worthy 
our most arduous efforts. " He that converteth the sinner 
10 



146 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



from the error of his way shall save a soul from death? 
and shall hide a multitude of sins." Thus I thought, thus 5 
I said ; and, swelled with a high idea of my own impor- 
tance, I went, accompanied by two or three of my Christian 
brethren, to see, to converse with, and, if need were, to 
admonish this simple, weak, but, as we heretofore believed, 
meritorious female. Fully persuaded that I could easily 
convince her of her errors, I entertained no doubt respect- 
ing the result of my undertaking. The young lady re- 
ceived us with much kindness and condescension, while, 
as I glanced my eye upon her fine countenance beaming 
with intelligence, mingling pity and contempt grew in my 
bosom. After the first ceremonies we sat for some time 
silent. At length I drew up a heavy sigh, and uttered a 
pathetic sentiment relative to the deplorable condition of 
those who live and die in unbelief. And I concluded a 
violent declamation, by pronouncing with great earnestness, 
" 4 He that belie veth not shall be damned.*" 

"And pray, sir," said the young lady, with great sweet- 
ness, " pray, sir, what is the unbeliever damned for not 
believing ? " 

"What is he damned for not believing? Why, he is 
damned for not believing." 

"But, my dear sir, I asked what was that which he did 
not believe for which he was damned ? " 

" Why, for not believing in Jesus Christ, to be sure." 

" Do you mean to say that unbelievers are damned for 
not believing there was such a person as Jesus Christ ? " 

"No, I do not; a man may believe there was such a 
person, and yet be damned." 

"What, then, sir, must he believe in order to avoid 
damnation?" 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY* 



147 



u Why, he must believe that Jesus Christ is a complete 
Saviour.'* 

"Well, suppose he were to believe that Jesus Christ was 
the complete Saviour of others, would this belief save 
iiim ? " 

"No, he must believe that Christ Jesus is his complete 
Saviour. Every individual must believe for himself that 
Jesus Christ is his complete Saviour" 

" Why, sir, is Jesus Christ the Saviour of any unbe- 
liever sV 

" No, madam." 

" Why, then, should any unbeliever believe that Jesus 
Christ is his Saviour if he be not his Saviour?" 

"I say he is not the Saviour of any one until he be- 
lieves." 

" Then, if Jesus be not the Saviour of the unbeliever 
until he believes, the unbeliever is called upon to believe a 
lie. It appears to me, sir, that Jesus is the complete 
Saviour of unbelievers ; and that unbelievers are called 
upon to believe the truth ; and that by believing they are 
saved, in their own apprehension, saved from <dl those 
dreadful fears which are consequent upon a state of con- 
scious condemnation." 

" No, madam ; you are dreadfully, I trust not fatally, 
misled. Jesus never was, never will be, the Saviour of 
any unbeliever." 

" Do you think Jesus is your Saviour, sir ?" 

" I hope he is." 

" Were you always a believer, sir? " 
" No, madam." 

"Then you. were once an -unbeliever; that is, you once 
believed that Jesus Christ was not your Saviour. Now, as 



148' LIFE OF REV. JOHZr MURRAY* 

you say, he never teas, nor never will be, the Saviour of 
any unbeliever; as you were onee an unbeliever , he never 
can be your Saviour." 

" Pie never was my Saviour till I believed/' 

" Did he never die for you till you believed, sir ? " 

Here I was extremely embarrassed, and most devoutly 
wished myself out of her habitation. I sighed bitterly,, 
expressed deep commiseration for those souls who had 
nothing but head-knowledge ; drew out my watch, discov- 
ered it ivas late; and, recollecting an engagement, observed 
it was time to take leave. 

I was extremely mortified. The young lady observed 
my confusion, but was too generous to pursue her triumph* 
I arose to depart ; the company arose ; she urged us to 
tarry ; addressed each of us in the language of kindness. 
Her countenance seemed to wear a resemblance of the 
heaven which she contemplated. It was stamped by benig- 
nity ; and, when we bade her adieu, she enriched us by her 
good wishes. 

I suspected that my religious brethren saw she had the* 
advantage of me ; and I felt that her remarks were indeed 
'ctnansweraUe. My pride was hurt, and I determined to 
ascertain the exact sentiments of my associates respecting, 
this interview. 64 Poor soul," said I, " she is far gone in 
error." — "True," said they; "but she is, notwithstand- 
ing, a very sensible woman." Ay, ay, thought I, they have 
assi*re31y discovered that she had proved too mighty for 
me. " Yes," said I, "she has a great deal of 7ieacJ-knowl~ 
edge ; but yet she may be a lost, damned soul." — "I hope 
not," returned one of my friends; "she is a very good 
young woman." I saw, and it was with extreme chagrin 7 
that the result of this visit had depreciated me in the opin- 



LIFE OF ItEF. JOHN MURRAY. 



H9 



ion of my companions. But I could only censure and con- 
demn, solemnly observing, it was better not to converse 
with any of those apostates, and it would be judicious never 
to associate with them upon any occasion. From this 
period, I myself carefully avoided every Universalist, and 
most cordially did I hate them. My ear was open to the 
public calumniator, to the secret whisperer, and I jdelded 
credence to every scandalous report, however improbable. 
My informers were good people. I had no doubt of their 
veracity ; and I believed it would be difficult to paint Relly 
and his connections in colors too black. How severely has * 
the law of retaliation been since exercised in the stabs 
which have been aimed at my own reputation ! Relly was 
described as a man black with crimes ; an atrocious 
offender, both in principle and practice. He had, it was 
said, abused and deserted an amiable wife ; and it was 
added that he retained in his house an abandoned woman ; 
and that he not only thus conducted himself, but publicly, 
and most nefariously, taught his hearers to dare the laws 
of their country and their God, u Hence," said my inform- 
ers, " the dissipated and unprincipled of every class flock 
to his church. His congregation is astonishingly large ; the 
carriages of the great block up the street in which his 
meeting-house stands, and he is the idol of the voluptuous 
of every description." All this and much more was said, 
industriously propagated, and credited in every religious 
circle. Denominations at variance with each other most 
cordially agreed in thus thinking, and thus speaking, of 
Relly, of his preaching, and of his practice. I confess I 
felt a strong inclination to see and hear this monster, once 
at least ; but the risk was dreadful ! I could not gather 
courage to hazard the steadfastness of my faith ; and for 



LIFE OF REV. JOHJST MURRAY, 



many years I persevered in my resolution, on no considera- 
tion to contaminate my ear by the sound of his voice. At 
length, however, I was prevailed upon to enter his church : r 
but I detested the sight of him ; and my mind, prejudiced 
by the reports to which I had listened respecting him, was 
too completely filled with a recollection of his fancied 
atrocities, to permit a candid attention to his subject, or 
his mode of investigation. 1 wondered much at his impu- 
dence in daring to speak m the name of God ; and I felt 
assured that he was treasuring up unto himself wrath 
against the day of wrath, I looked upon this deluded 
audience with alternate pity and contempt, and I thanked 
God that I was not one of them. I rejoiced when I escaped- 
from the house, and, as I passed home, I exclaimed, almost 
audibly, "Wiry, O my God, was I not left in this deplora- 
ble, damnable state, — - given up like this poor, unfortunate 
people, to believe a lie, to the utter perversion of my soul ? 
But I was thus furnished with another proof of my election? 
in consequence of my not being deceived by this detestable- 
deceiver ; and, of course, my consolation was great. 

About this time there was a religious society established 
in Cannon Street, in an independent meeting-house, for the 
purpose of elucidating difficult passages of Scripture. This 
society chose for their president a Mi*. Mason, who, 
although not a clerical gentleman, was, nevertheless, of 
high standing in the religious world. Frequent applica- 
tions were made to him in the character of a physician to' 
the sinking, sorrowing, sin-sick souL His figure was com- 
manding, and well calculated to fill the minds of } 7 oung" 
converts with religious awe. When this company of seri- 
ous inquirers was assembled, the president addressed the 
throne of grace in a solemn and appropriate prayer, ancl 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



151 



the subject for the evening was next proposed. Every 
member of the society was indulged with the privilege of 
expressing his sentiments, for the space of five minutes, 
A glass was upon the table, which ran accurately the given 
term. The president held in his hand a small ivory ham- 
mer. When the speaker's time had expired, he had a right 
to give him notice by a stroke on the table, round which 
the members were seated. But, if he approved of what 
was delivered, it was optional with him to extend the limits 
of his term. When the question had gone round the table 
the president summed up the evidences, gave his own 
judgment, and, having proposed the question for the next 
evening, concluded with prayer. 

Upon this society I was a constant attendant, and I was 
frequently gratified by the indulgence of the president and 
the implied approbation of the society. It was on the 
close of one of those evenings, which were to me very 
precious opportunities, that the president took me by the 
hand, and requested me to accompany him into the ve&try. 

" Sit down, my good sir. You cannot but have seen that 
I have long distinguished you in this society ; that I have 
been pleased with your observations ; and I have given 
indisputable evidence that both my reason and my judg- 
ment approved your remarks." I bowed respectfull}', and 
endeavored to express my gratitude in a manner becoming 
an occasion so truly flattering. 

"My object/' said he, " in seeking to engage } t ou in pri- 
vate, is to request you would take home with you a pam- 
phlet I have written against Relly's ' Union. 7 I have long- 
wondered that some able servant of our Master has not 
taken up this subject. But, as my superiors are silent, I 
have been urged by a sense of duty to make a stand, and 



152 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



I have done all in my power to prevent the pernicious ten- 
dency of this soul-destro3 r ing book." 

Although, at this period, I had never seen Relly's 
" Union," yet my heart rejoiced that Mason, this great and 
good man, had undertaken to write against it, and, from 
the abundance of my heart, nry mouth overflowed with 
thankfulness. 

"All that I request of you," said Mr. Mason, "is to 
take this manuscript home with 3 T ou, and keep it till our 
next meeting. Meet me in this vestry a little before the 
usual time. Read it, I entreat you, carefully, and favor 
me with your unbiassed sentiments." I was elated b} r the 
honor done me, and I eviuced much astonishment at the 
confidence reposed in me. But he was pleased to express 
a high opinion of my judgment, abilities, and goodness of 
heart, and he begged leave to avail himself of those quali- 
ties with which his fancy had invested me. 

I took the manuscript home, perused it carefullv, and 
with much pleasure, until I came to a passage at which I 
was constrained to pause, 'painfully to pause. Mr. Relly 
has said, speaking of the record which God gave of his 
Son : " This life is in his S071, and he that believeth not this 
record maketh God a liar. From whence," inferred Mr. 
Rellv, " it is plain that God hath given this eternal life 
in the Son to unbelievers, as fully as to believers, else the 
unbeliever could not by his unbelief make God a liar. 
4 'This," said Mr. Mason, punning upon the author's name, 
" is just as clear as that this writer is an Irish Bishop" I 
was grieved to observe that Mr. Mason could say no more 
upon a subject so momentous. Nor could I forbear allow- 
ing more than I wished to allow to the reasoning of Mr. 
Relly. Most devoutly did I lament that the advantage in 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 153 

argument did not rest with my admired friend, Mason ; and 
I was especially desirous that this last argument should 
have been completely confuted. I was positive that God 
never gave eternal life to any unbeliever ; and yet I was per- 
plexed to decide how, if God had not given life to unbe- 
lievers, they could possibly make God a liar, by believing 
that he had not. My mind was incessantly exercised and 
greatly embarrassed upon this question. What is it to 
make any one a liar, but to deny the truth of what he has 
said ? But if God had nowhere said he had given life to 
unbelievers, how could the unbeliever make God a liar? 
The stronger this argument seemed in favor of the grace 
and love of God, the more distressed and unhappy I 
became ; and most earnestly did I wish that Mr. Mason's 
pamphlet might contain something that was more rational, 
more scriptural, than a mere pun; that he might be able 
to adduce proof positive that the gift of God, which is 
everlasting life, was never given to any but believers. I was 
indisputably assured that I myself was a believer ; and 
right precious did I hold my exclusive property in the Son 
of God. 

At the appointed time I met Mr. Mason in the vestry. 
" Well, sir, I presume you have read my manuscript? " — 
" I have, sir, and I have read it repeatedly." — " Well, sir, 
speak freety, is there anything in the manuscript which 3*011 
dislike?" — " Wiry, sir, as you are so good as to indulge 
me with the liberty of speaking, I will venture to point out 
one passage which appears to me not sufficiently clear. 
Pardon me, sir, but surely argument, especially upon religious 
subjects, is preferable to ridicule, to punning upon the name 
of an author." — u And where, pray, is the objectionable 
paragraph to which you advert I" I pointed it out ; but, 



154 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



on looking in his face, I observed his countenance fallen ; 
it was no longer toward me. Mr. Mason questioned my 
judgment, and never afterward honored me by his atten- 
tion. However, I still believed Mason right, and Belly 
wrong; for if Relly was right, the conclusion was unavoid- 
able, all men must finally be saved. But this was out of 
the question, utterly impossible. All religious denomina- 
tions agreed to condemn this heresy, to consider it as a 
damnable doctrine ; and what every religious denomination 
united to condemn must be false. 

Thus, although I lost the favor of Mr. Mason, and he 
published his pamphlet precisely as it stood when submitted 
to my perusal, yet my reverential regard for him was not 
diminished. I wished, most cordially wished, success to 
his book, and destruction to the author against whom it was 
written. 

In this manner some months rolled over my head, when, 
accompanying my wife on a visit to her aunt, after the 
usual ceremonies, I repaired, according to custom, to the 
bookcase, and, turning over many books and pamphlets, I 
at length opened one that had been robbed of its title- 
page ; but in running it over I came to the very argument 
which had excited so much anxiety in my bosom. It was 
the first moment I had ever seen a line of Mr. Kelly's writ- 
ing, except in Mr. Mason's pamphlet. I was much aston- 
ished, and, turning to Mrs. Murray, I informed her I held 
Mr. Kelly's " Union " in my hand. I asked our uncle if I 
might put it in n^ pocket. " Surely," said he ; " and keep 
it there, if you please ; I never read books of divinity. I 
know not what the pamphlet is, nor do I wish to know." 
As I put it into my pocket, my mind became alarmed and 
perturbed. It was dangerous ; it was tampering with 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



155 



poison ; it was like taking fire into my bosom. I had bet- 
ter throw it into the flames, or restore it to the bookcase. 
Such was the conflict in my bosom. However, in the full 
assurance that the elect ivere safe, and that although they 
took any deadly thing it should not hurt them, I decided to 
read the " Union ; " and, having thus made up my mind, I 
experienced a degree of impatience until I reached home, 
when, addressing the dear companion of my } r outh, I said, 
" 1 have, my dear, judged and condemned before I have 
heard ; but I have now an opportune given me for delib- 
erate investigation." — " But," returned Mrs. Murray, " are 
we sufficient of ourselves?" — " No, my love, certainly we 
are not ; but God, all-gracious, hath said, ' If any lack 
wisdom, let them ask of God, who giveth liberally and 
upbraideth not.' My heart is exercised by fearful appre- 
hensions. This moment I dread to read, the next I am 
anxious to hear what the author can say. We will, there- 
fore, lay this book before our God. There is, my love, a 
God, who is not far from every one of us. We are directed 
to make our requests known unto him for all things, by 
supplication and prayer. God hath never yet said to any, 
4 Seek ye my face in vain.' We will then pray for his direc- 
tion and counsel ; and we may rest in the assurance of 
obtaining both." Accordingly we entered our closet, and 
both of us — for we were both equally interested — pros- 
trated ourselves before God with prayers and tears, beseech- 
ing him, the God of mercy, to look with pity on us. We 
were on the point of attending to doctrines of which we 
were not, we could not, be judges, and we earnestly suppli- 
cated him to lead us into all truth. If the volume before 
us contained truth, we entreated him to show it to us, and 
to increase our faith. If, on the other hand, it contained 



156 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



falsehood, we beseeched God to make it manifest, that we 
might not be deceived. No poor criminal ever prayed for 
life, when under sentence of death, with greater fervor of 
devotion, than did my laboring soul upon this occasion 
supplicate for the light of life to direct my erring steps. 

After thus weeping and thus supplicating, we opened the 
Bible and began to read this book, looking into the Bible 
for the passages to which the writer referred. We were 
astonished and delighted at the beauty of the Scriptures, 
thus exhibited. It seemed as if every sentence was an apple 
of gold in a picture of silver; and still, as we proceeded, 
the wonder was that so much divine truth should be spoken 
by so heinous a transgressor ; and this consideration 
seemed suggested as a reason why I should not continue 
reading. Can anything good proceed from such a charac- 
ter? Would not truth have been revealed to men eminent 
for virtue? How is it possible discoveries so important 
should never until now have been made, and now only by 
this man? Yet I considered, God's ways were in the great 
deep ; he would send by whom he would send ; choosing the 
iveak and base things to confound the mighty and the strong, 
that no flesh should glory in his presence. And, as my 
lovel} 7 wife justly observed, I was not sure all I heard of 
Mr. Rell} r was true ; that our Saviour had said to his dis- 
ciples, " They shall say all manner of evil of jou falsely ; " 
and the present instance may be a case in point. " You 
have no personal acquaintance with Mr. Relly," said she ; 
" nor do 3 T ou know that any of those from whom you have 
received his character are better informed than yourself. 
I think it doth not become us to speak or believe evil of any 
man without the strongest possible proof." All this was 
rational. I felt its full force, and blushed for my own 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



157 



credulity. I proceeded to read. The " Union " introduced 
me to man}' passages of Scripture which had before escaped 
my observation. A student as I had been of the Scrip- 
tures from the first dawn of my reason, I could not but 
wonder at myself. I turned to Mr. Mason's book, and I 
discovered want of candor, and a kind of duplicity which 
had not before met my view, and which perhaps would 
never have caught my attention had I not read the " Union." 
I saw the grand object untouched, while Relly had clearly 
pointed out the doctrines of the gospel. Yet there were 
many passages that I could not understand, and I felt my- 
self distressingly embarrassed. One moment I wished from 
my soul I had never seen the " Union ; " and the next my 
heart was enlarged and lifted up by considerations which 
swelled my bosom to eestas}\ This was the situation 
of my mind during many succeeding months, and a large 
proportion of my time was passed in reading and studying 
the Scriptures and in prayer. My understanding was 
pressing on to new attainments, and the prospect bright- 
ened before me. I was greatly attached to my minister, 
Mr. Hitchins ; he was eminent in his line, and a most pleas- 
ing preacher. Mrs. Murray was in the habit of taking 
down his sermons in short hand. We were delighted with 
the man, and accustomed to consider him a genuine gospel 
preacher. It happened that Mr. Hitchins took a journey 
into the countiy, and was absent on the Sabbath day. 
" Come, my dear," said I, " our minister is out of town ; 
let us avail ourselves of the opportunity, and hear the 
writer of the 4 Union.' This is a privilege which few who 
read books can have ; as authors arc generally numbered with 
the dead before their labors are submitted to the public 
eye." Her consent was yielded to my solicitations ; but 



158 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



we were terrified as we passed along, in the fear of meeting 
some of our religious brethren. Happily, however, we 
reached the meeting-house without encountering any one 
to whom we were known. 

Mr. Belly had changed his place of worship, and we 
were astonished to observe a striking proof of the falsehood 
of those reports which had reached us. No coaches thronged 
the street nor surrounded the door of this meeting-house ; 
there was no vestige of grandeur either within or without. 
The house had formerly been occupied by Quakers. There 
were no seats save a few benches ; and the pulpit was 
framed of a few rough boards, over which no plane had 
ever passed. The audience corresponded with the house. 
They did not appear very religious ; that is, they were not 
melancholy ; and I therefore suspected they had not much 
piety. I attended to everything. The hymn was good, 
the prayer excellent, and I was astonished to witness in so 
bad a man so much apparent devotion ; for still, I must 
confess, the prejudices I had received from my religious 
friends were prevalent in my mind. Mr. Relly gave out 
his text : " Either make the tree good and its fruit good, or the 
tree corrupt and the fruit corrupt ; for every tree is known by 
its fruit ; a good tree cannot bring forth corrupt fruit, 
neither can a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit." I was 
immeasurably surprised. What, thought I, has this man 
to do with a passage so calculated to condemn himself ? 
But, as he proceeded, every faculty of my soul was power- 
fully seized and captivated, and I was perfectly amazed, 
while he explained iclio we were to understand by the 
good, and ivho by the bad trees. He proved, beyond con- 
tradiction, that a good tree could not bring forth any corrupt 
fruit, but there was no man who lived and sinned not. All 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



159 



mankind had corrupted themselves ; there were none there- 
fore good; no, not one. 

No mere man, since the fall, has been able to keep the 
commandments of God ; but daily doth break them, in 
thought, in word, in deed. There was, however one good 
tree, Jesus. He, indeed, stands as the apple-tree among 
the trees of the wood. He is that good tree, which cannot 
bring forth corrupt fruit. Under his shadow the believer 
reposeth ; the fruit of this tree is sweet to his taste ; and the 
matter of his theme constantly is, " Whom have I in heaven 
but thee, and there is none upon earth that I desire beside 
thee." I was constrained to believe that I had never, until 
this moment, heard the Redeemer preached ; and, as I said, 
I attended with my whole soul. I was humbled ; I was 
confounded ; I saw clearly that I had been all my life ex- 
pecting good f ruit from corrupt trees, grapes on thorns, and 
Jigs on thistles. I suspected myself ; I had lost my stand- 
ing ; I was unsettled, perturbed, and wretched. A few 
individuals whom I had known at Mr. Whitefield's taber- 
nacle were among Mr. Kelly's audience, and I heard them 
say, as they passed out of the aisle of the church, " I wonder 
how the Pharisees would like our preacher? " I wished to 
hear Mrs. Murray speak upon the subject ; but we passed 
on, wrapped in contemplation. At length, I broke silence : 
" Well, my dear, what are your sentiments?" — "Nay, 
my dear, what is your opinion ? " — " I never heard truth, — 
unadulterated truth before. So sure as there is a God in 
heaven, if the Scriptures be the word of God, the testimony 
this day delivered is the truth of God. It is the first con- 
sistent sermon I have ever heard." I reached home full of 
this sermon ; took up the " Union," read it with new pleas- 
ure ; attended again and again upon Mr. Relly, and was 



160 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



more and more astonished. Mr. Hitchins returned home, 
but, as I conceived, very much changed ; more inconsistent 
than ever. " No, my dear," said my wife, " it is you who 
are changed. He preaches, as I can prove by my notes, 
precisely the same ; yet it is truly surprising that his multi- 
plied contradictions have until now passed without our 
observation." — " Well," said I, "what are we to do? 
Can we in future bear such inconsistencies, now that we 
are better informed ? Suppose we keep our seats as usual ; 
attending, however, one-half of every Sabbath, to the 
preacher of Christ Jesus? " On this we immediately deter- 
mined ; and, by this expedient, we imagined we might be 
gratified by hearing the truth, without running the risk of 
losing our reputation ; for we well knew that, as professed 
adherents of Mr. Kelly, we could no longer preserve that 
spotless fame we delighted to cherish. 

I now commenced the reading of the Scriptures with 
augmented diligence. The Bible was indeed a new book 
to me ; the veil was taken from my heart, and the word of 
my God became right precious to my soul. Many Scrip- 
tures that I had not known forcibly pressed upon my 
observation ; and many that until now I had not suffered 
myself to believe. Still the doctrine of election distressed 
me. Unfortunately, I had connected this doctrine of election 
w r ith the doctrine of final reprobation ; not considering that, 
although the first was indubitably a Scripture doctrine, the 
last ivas not to be found in, nor could be supported by, revela- 
tion. I determined to call upon and converse with Mr. 
Hitchins on this important subject. I found him in his 
study, encompassed about with the writings of great men. 
"I wait upon you, sir, for the purpose of obtaining help. 
The Arminians show me many Scriptures which proclaim 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



161 



the universality of the atonement. I cannot answer them. 
What, my clear sir, shall I do?" — " Why, sir, the doc- 
trines of election and reprobation are doctrines we are 
bound to believe as articles of our faith ; but I can say with 
the Rev. Mr. Hervey, I never wish to think of them except 
upon my knees. I never heard any one undertake to explain 
them, who did not still further embarrass the subject. One 
observation is, however, conclusive, and it never fails effec- 
tually to silence the Arminian : that if, as they affirm, 
Christ Jesus died for all men, then assuredly all men must 
be saved; for no one can be eternally lost for whom the Re- 
deemer shed his precious blood; such an event is impossible. 
Now, as the Arminians will not admit a possibility that all 
will finally be saved, they are thus easily confounded." 
This, I thought, was very good ; it was clear as any testi- 
mony in divine revelation, that Christ Jesus died for all, for 
the sins of the whole world, for every man, etc. ; and even 
Mr. Hitchins had declared, that every one for whom Christ 
died must finally be saved. This I took home with me to 
my wife. She saw the truth, that we were so well prepared 
to embrace, manifested even by the testimony of its ene- 
mies, and we were inexpressibly anxious to hear and to 
understand. We now attended public worship, not only as 
a duty, conceiving that we thus increased a fund of right- 
eousness, upon which we were to draw in every exigence, 
but it became our pleasure, our consolation, and our highest 
enjoyment. We began to feed upon the truth as it is in 
Jesus, and every discovery we made filled us with unutter- 
able transport. I regarded my friends with increasing affec- 
tion, and I conceived, if I had an opportunity of conversing 
ivith the whole zuorld, the whole ivorld would be convinced. 
11 



162 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MUMtAYc 



It might truly have been said, that we had a taste of heaven 
below. 

It was soon whispered in the tabernacle, that I had fre- 
quently been seen going to and coming from Relly's meet- 
ing ! This alarmed many, and one dear friend conversed 
with me in private upon the subject, heard what, from the 
abundance of my heart, my mouth was constrained to utter, 
smiled, pitied me, and begged I would not be too commu- 
nicative, lest the business should be brought before the 
society, and excommunication might follow. I thanked 
him for his caution ; but as I had conversed only with him, I 
had hazarded nothing. In a short time I was cited to ap- 
pear before the society worshipping in Mr. Whitefield's 
tabernacle. I obeyed the summons, and found myself in 
the midst of a very gloomy company, all seemingly in great 
distress. They sighed very bitterly, and at last gave me to 
understand, that th^ had heard I had become an attendant 
upon that monster, Helly, and they wished to know if their 
information was correct. I requested I might be told from 
whom they had their intelligence ; and they were evidently 
embarrassed by my question. Still, however, I insisted 
upon being confronted with my accuser, and they at length 
consented to summon him ; but I was nearly petrified when 
I learned it was the identical friend who had privately con- 
versed with me, and who had privately cautioned me, that had 
lodged the information against me ! Upon this friend I had 
called, in my way to the tabernacle, confiding to him my 
situation. He said he had feared the event ; he pitied me 
and prayed with -me. Bat he did not calculate upon being 
confronted with me, and his confusion was too great to suffer 
his attendance. It was then referred to me : " Was it a 
fact, I had attended upon Relly?" I had. " Did I believe 



LIFE OF 11EV. JOHN MURRAY. 



163 



what I had heard ? " I answered that I did ; and my trial 
commenced. They could not prove I had violated those 
articles to which I had subscribed. I had, in no point of 
view, infringed the contract by which I was bound. But 
they apprehended, if I continued to approbate Relly by my 
occasional attendance on his ministry, my example would 
become contagious ; except, therefore, I would give them 
my word that I would wholly abandon this pernicious prac- 
tice, they must, however unwillingly, pronounce upon me 
the sentence of excommunication. I refused to bind my- 
self by any promise. I assured them I would continue to 
hear and to judge for myself ; and that I held it my duty 
to receive the truth of God wherever it might be manifested. 
"But Relly holds the truth in unrighteousness." — "I have 
nothing to do with his unrighteousness ; my own conduct 
is not more reprehensible than heretofore." They granted 
this ; but the force of example was frequently irresistible, 
and if I were permitted to follow, uncensured, my own in- 
clination, others might claim the same indulgence, to the 
utter perversion of their souls. It was then conceded in 
my favor, that, if I would confine my sentiments to my 
own bosom, they would continue me a member of their 
communion. I refused to accede to this proposal. I would 
not be under an obligation to remain silent. I must, so 
often as opportunity might present, consider myself as called 
upon to advocate truth. The question was then put : Should 
I be considered a member of the society upon my own terms ? 
And it was lost by only three voices. 

It was one in the morning, when I returned home to my 
poor, disconsolate wife, who was waiting forme, and when I 
entered her apartment nry spirits were so sunk, that, throw- 
ing myself into a chair, I burst into tears. But the sweet 



164 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



soother of rny every woe hastened to communicate that 
consolation she was so eminently qualified to bestow. 
" Now," said she, "for the first time, yoM know what it is 
to suffer for Christ's sake ; and you must arm 3-ourself with 
fortitude to bear what the adherents of Mr. Relly must 
always bear. Let us offer up praise and thanksgiving 
that it is no worse. Fear not those who can only kill the 
body. These, however, have not power to kill the boclv. 
It is true, they can do more ; they can murder our good 
name, which is rather to be chosen than life itself. But let 
us not fear ; our God will be with us, he will preserve and 
protect us." Our hearts, however, were very full, and with 
great devotion we wept and pra}*ed together. 

About this time, the grandfather of my Eliza sent for her 
to visit him at his country-seat, ten miles from London. 
This was highly gratifying, and abundantly more so, as I 
also was included in the invitation. After seeing and con- 
versing with me, he sincerely lamented that he had been so 
far duped by the artful and designing, as to put the dispo- 
sition of the greater part of his property, at his decease, 
entirely out of his own power ; but what he could do he 
most cheerfully did. Yet even here we were pursued by 
disappointment. He requested me to procure him a capa- 
ble, sober domestic ; and I engaged a woman, who, as I be- 
lieved, answered his description ; but, proving an artful 
huss}^, she gradually obtained over the mind of the old 
gentleman an astonishing influence, that resulted in a mar- 
riage, which effectually prevented his family connexions 
from ever again visiting him ! Thus were our new-born 
expectations, from a reconciled parent, levelled with the 
dust. A series of calamities succeeded ; those whom I had 
esteemed my best and dearest friends proved my most in- 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



165 



veterate foes, and, finding it impossible to reclaim us from 
what they conceived the paths of error, persecuted us with 
unceasing virulence. Presents, bestowed in the da}' of con- 
fidence, as tokens of affection, were claimed as legal debts; 
and as the law does not allow presents, I was arrested for 
the amount, betrayed by my religious friends into the 
hands of bailiffs, at a time when, had the promised lenity 
been exercised, I could have paid to the utmost farthing. 
Thus Heaven thought proper to keep us low ; but our faith 
increased, and we cherished that hope which maketh not 
ashamed ; and, even while struggling with difficulties, we 
enjoyed a heaven upon earth. Gradually I surmounted the 
greater part of my difficulties. At the house of our brother 
William I had an interview with our once obdurate younger 
brother ; he seemed penetrated with sorrow for our long 
continued estrangement ; he hung upon my neck, wept bit- 
terly, and expressed a fear that I could never forgive him. 
I, also, shed many tears, and, extending to him the hand of 
amity, clasped him to my bosom with a most cordial em- 
brace. This was a most pleasant circumstance to my be- 
loved Eliza. All now seemed delightful. We had a sweet 
little retirement in a rural part of the city. We wanted 
but little, and our wants were all supplied ; and perhaps we 
enjoyed as much as human nature can enjoy. One dear 
pledge of love, a son, whom my wife regarded as the image 
of his father, completed our felicity. But, alas ! this boy 
was lent us no more than one short year ! He expired in the 
arms of his agonized mother, whose health, from that fatal 
moment, began to decline. I was be3 T ond expression terri- 
fied. Physicians recommended the country ; but my busi- 
ness confined me in London, and my circumstances would 
not admit of my renting two houses. I took lodgings at a 




166 



LIFE OF REV. J0LT2T MURRAY, 



small distance from town, returning myself every clay to 
London. The disorder advanced with terrific strides. My 
soul was tortured. Every time I approached her chamber, 
even the sigh which proclaimed she still lived administered 
a melancholy relief. This was indeed a time of sorrow and 
distress beyond what I had ever before known. I have 
been astonished how I existed through such scenes. Sure- 
ly, in every time of trouble, God is a very present help. 
I was obliged to remove the dear creature, during her re- 
duced situation, the house in which I had taken lodgings 
being sold ; but I obtained for her a situation about four 
miles from town. The scenes around her new lodgings 
were charming. She seemed pleased, and I was delighted. 
For a few days we believed her better, and again I expe- 
rienced all the rapture of hope. My difficulties, however, 
were many. I was necessitated to pass my days in Lon- 
don. Could I have continued with her, it would have been 
some relief. But as my physician gave me no hope, when 
I parted from her in the morning, I was frequently terrified 
in the dread of meeting death on my return. Often, for my 
sake, did this sweet angel struggle to appear relieved ; but, 
alas ! I could discern it was a struggle, and my anguish 
became still more poignant. To add to my distress, pov- 
erty came in like a flood. I had my house in town, a ser- 
vant there ; the doctor, the apothecary, the nurse, the lodg- 
ings in the country, — everything to provide ; daily passing 
and repassing. Truly my heart was very sore. I was 
friendless. My religious friends had, on my hearing and 
advocating the doctrines preached by all God's holy proph- 
ets ever since the world began, become ray most inveterate 
foes. Our grandfather was under the dominion of the 
woman I had introduced to him, who had barred his doors 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



167 



against its. The heart of our younger brother was again 
closed, and, as if angry with himself for the concessions 
he had made, was more than ever estranged ; and even 
our elder brother, who, in every situation, had for a long 
season evinced himself my faithful friend, had forsaken 
us! I had, most indiscreetly, ventured to point out 
some errors in the domestic arrangements of his wife, 
which I believed would eventuate in his ruin, and he so 
far resented this freedom as to abandon all intercourse 
with me. Among Mr. Relly's acquaintance I had no 
intimates, indeed, hardly an acquaintance. I had suf- 
fered so much from religious connections, that I had # de- 
termined as much as possible to stand aloof during the 
residue of my journey through life. Thus was I circum- 
stanced, when the fell destroyer of my peace aimed his 
most deadly shafts at the bosom of a being far dearer to 
me than my existence. My credit failing, my wants multi- 
plying, blessed be God, ni} r Eliza was ignorant of the 
extent of my sufferings ! She would have surrendered up 
her life, even if she had feared death, rather than have per- 
mitted an application to either of her brothers ; yet was I 
by the extreinit}' of my distress precipitated upon a step 
so humiliating. Stopping at a coffee-house near our 
brother William's, I penned a hurried line, requesting he 
would give me an immediate meeting*; and sending it by 
a porter, I waited in agony indescribable its effect. Almost 
instantaneously he entered the coffee-house, and, with- 
out uttering a word, took a seat ; nor was I for some mo- 
ments able to articulate. My soul was tortured ; he saw 
it, and could not avoid feeling. At length he questioned, 
" Pray, what is the matter?" — " Your sister is very near 
her end, and, were we both so, it would be to me the cause 



168 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURE AT. 



of exultation, and you would have been spared this trouble. 
My application to you will be a sufficient explanation of 
my circumstances ; and should you think proper to call 
upon a once dear, now dying sister, I have to request you 
would not notice my having sought this interview ; it would 
embitter the last moments of her life." He was amazingly 
shocked, yet, as this was the first sy liable he had heard of 
her indisposition, he flattered himself my fears had mag- 
nified the danger ; but he assured me he would see her 
without delay. I, however, desired he would grant me time 
to prepare her for his visit. " It must," said I, " appear en- 
tirely accidental." And I hastened to our lodgings. U I 
met y our brother William, my love, who, having heard you 
are indisposed, kindly inquired after you. I think he means 
to visit you." — " If, my precious friend, you have not de- 
scended so low as to ask any favor of him, I shall be glad 
to see him." — "I will not, my love, do airy thing which I 
ought not to do." I sat down by her bedside. That face 
upon which strangers had gazed enraptured, was now the 
seat of death's wan harbinger, and her struggles to conceal 
her sufferings were but too visible. Quitting the room, I 
inquired of the nurse how she had been during my absence. 
She told me she had endured much pain, was very anxious 
for my return, and expressed a fear that she should never 
again behold me. I was summoned by the mistress of the 
house, who was so charmed by the deportment of my 
Eliza, and had conceived so great an affection for her, as 
to find it difficult to quit her apartment. But my suffering 
friend, taking my hand, and drawing me near her, whis- 
pered a wish that we might be alone. I gave the good lady 
a hint, who instantly withdrew. 

I kneeled by her bedside ; she drew me closer to her, 



LIFE OF liEV. JOHN MURRAY, 



169 



and throwing her feeble, her emaciated arms around my 
neck she gave me an ardent embrace. I was unutterably 
affected. " Be composed, my clear," said she, "and let 
these precious moments be as calm as possible ; we may 
not be allowed another opportunity. Dear, faithful friend 
in life, — in death dearer to me than my own soul, — God 
reward yoxi for all the kind care you have taken of me ! 
Oh, may my heavenly Father provide some one to supply 
my place, who may reciprocate the kindness } r ou have 
shown me ! Pray be composed. Remember we are not at 
home ; that we shall shortly meet in our Father's house — " 
here she paused, and again resuming: "Our parting, 
when compared with eternity, will be but for a moment. 
What though we have not continued together so long as 
we fondly expected, yet, my love, we have had an age of 
happiness. It is 3'ou, m} r precious husband, who are the 
object of pit}-. God all-gracious console and support } r ou. 
Be of good cheer, my love, we shall meet in the kingdom 
of the Redeemer, — indeed, indeed we shall." Again she 
threw her dying arms around me. Her soul seemed strug- 
gling with the magnitude of her emotions. For me, I 
could not have articulated a syllable for the world. It is 
astonishing I did not expire. But there is a time to die. 
Again, like the wasting taper, she seemed to revive. 
Again, with uncommon energy, she pronounced upon her 
almost frenzied husband the solemn benediction. This 
brought on a cough. She pointed to a phial upon her 
dressing-table. I gave her a few drops. " There, my 
best friend, I am better ; be composed, my faithful, my 
suffering guide, protector, husband. Oh, trust in the 
Lord ! Let us, my love, stay upon the God of our salva- 
tion. He will never leave us. He will never forsake us." 



170 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



Then, grasping ray hand, she continued : " These mo- 
ments, my dear, are very precious ; we have had many 
precious moments. You will not go out again. I shall 
not again lose sight of you. You will abide with me so 
long as I shall continue — " I could contain no longer. 
My suppressed agon} 7 became audible. She drew me to 
her : " Do not distress me, my love." She was deeply 
affected. Her cough came on with additional violence. 
The sound of my voice brought in the kind lady of the 
house ; she believed the angel had escaped. I requested 
her to reach the phial. The expiring saint motioned it 
away. " It is too late, my love," she would have added ; 
but utterance instantly failed her, and without a single 
struggle she breathed her last, still holding my hand fast 
in hers. I was on my knees by her bedside. I saw she 
was breathless ; but she still held my hand. Ten thousand 
worlds, had I possessed them, I would have given for per- 
mission to have accompanied her beatified spirit. I am 
astonished that I retained my reason. Only a few weeks, 
a few tremendous weeks, since the commencement of her 
illness had rolled on, when, kneeling in speechless agon} 7 
by her bedside, I saw her breathe her last. She expired 
without a sigh, without a pang, and I was left to the 
extreme of wretchedness. A few moments gave me to 
reflection. I contemplated her form beautiful even in 
death. She was no more a sufferer either in bod} 7 or 
mind ; and, for a little while, I derived malignant satisfac- 
tion from the consideration of what her brothers would 
endure when they found that in this world they should no 
more behold her. I was shocked at myself. It seemed as 
if the sainted spirit mildly reproved me. I clasped my 
hands in agony. I supplicated pardon of the deceased 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



171 



and of her God. It appeared to me I had been deficient 
in affection, and the idea spoke daggers to my soul. 
Memory cruelly summoned before me many instances in 
which she might have been obliged ; but distraction was in 
this thought. I sat in speechless agony by her bedside. 
Having locked the door, no one could obtain entrance. 
Almighty God, how unutterable were the sorrows of my 
soul ! 

I was aroused from this state by the arrival of our 
brother William. He obtained entrance ; he glanced upon 
the bed, gazed for a moment, averted his eyes, trembled, 
and became pale as the face of my lamented saint, and 
at length in silent agony quitted the apartment. The 
good lady of the house now made her appearance, and in 
a tone of sympatlry supplicated me to retire. The neces- 
sary offices were performed, and all that remained of my 
wedded friend was prepared for the undertaker, who came 
by the order of her opulent brother, — that brother who 
had nefariously robbed her of her right of inheritance, 
who contributed so largely, while she lived, to her suffer- 
ings, and who now endured anguish more than equivalent 
for all the riches of the world. A hearse and mourning 
coaches attended ; and the dear remains, followed by her 
brothers and their families, were entombed in the family 
vault. The coachman was directed to convey me, after 
the interment, to the house of our younger brother. He 
was again a prey to contrition and to sorrow, and he urged 
me to cherish hope. I assured him I had nothing to do 
with hope, at least in this world. He made great pro- 
fessions of affection, and liberal promises of future kind- 
ness. But it was too late ; and though I believe he was 



172 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



at the time sincere, yet, when his strong feelings subsided, 
he was himself again. 

Here I close another period of my eventful life. What 
a sad reverse ! A few short weeks since, I was in the 
most enviable circumstances. My situation was charming, 
m} T dwelling neat and commodious ; my wife, the object of 
my soul's devout and sincere affection ; her lovely offspring 
swelling the rapture of the scene ; male and female do- 
mestics attached to our persons, and faithful to our inter- 
est ; and the pleasing hope that I should enjoy a long suc- 
cession of these delights. Now I was alone in the world. 
No wife, no child, no domestics, no home ; nothing but 
the ghosts of my departed joys. In religion, and religion 
only, the last resort of the wretched, I found the sem- 
blance of repose. Religion taught me to contemplate the 
state to which I was hastening. My dreams presented 
my departed Eliza. I saw her in a variety of views, but 
in every view celestial ; sometimes she was still living, but 
in haste to be gone ; sometimes she descended upon my 
imagination, a heavenly visitant commissioned to con- 
duct me home. And so much of felicity did I derive 
from those dreams that I longed for the hour of repose, 
that I might reiterate the visionary bliss. 

But new embarrassments awaited me ; doctors, apothe- 
caries, grocers, etc., etc., advanced with their bills ; yet I 
was not much affected. I was overwhelmed by far greater 
afflictions. My health had greatly suffered. My sight, 
by excess of sorrow, — so said my physician, — was 
almost gone. Often have I traversed George's Fields, 
where many have met death on the point of the footpad's 
dagger, in the mournful hope of meeting a similar fate ; 
forgetting, in the state to which I was reduced, that in 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MU Jill AY. 



17$ 



thus devoting myself to destruction I indubitably ranked 
with the self-murderer. The eldest brother of my de- 
parted friend continued from the period of his sister's 
demise uniformly kind. Through his instrumentality, 
many of my most pressing debts were discharged. My 
mind seemed subdued ; it became a fit residence for sor- 
row, when I received a letter from Ireland written by my 
brother James. Many of our family were numbered with 
the dead ; of all her children, my mother had now only 
three surviving sons and two daughters. My eldest sister 
was married, and my mother, leaving our common prop- 
erty in her care, was about to repair with her youngest 
daughter and two sons to England. She was not apprised 
of the death of my Eliza. I had written her that I was 
blessed with a most lovely and exemplary companion ; but 
from the death of my son, and the farther and entire pros- 
tration of my terrestrial happiness, I had suspended my 
communications. I was now again necessitated to take a 
house. My mother and my brothers resided with me ; and 
my sister with a lady to whom she had been introduced in 
Ireland. She soon after married, and, as I believed, im- 
prudently, and I saw her no more. I now lived a mourn- 
ful life. The world appeared to me in a very different 
point of view from what it had formerly done ; 3 r et I de- 
rived ecstatic pleasure from my views of revelation. Wil- 
liam Neale became convinced of the truth, as it is in Jesus; 
and, of course, an adherent of Mr. Relly, This soothed 
me, and the word of God was an abiding consolation. To 
a few individuals I was made a messenger of peace ; but 
my mother and my brother James remained inveterate 
opposers of the doctrines I had embraced. I sometimes 
visited the tabernacle, and, conceiving an affection for all 



174 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



men, I had a kind of satisfaction in standing in the midst 
of my brethren. It was at the tabernacle I was informed 
that a poor, unhappy, widowed woman, sister to a man 
whom I had loved, was in most deplorable circumstances. 
She had been deceived b}' a villain ; her kindred had been 
made acquainted with her situation, but their indignation 
was kindled against her ; they would not see her ; and her 
religious connections abandoned her while she was suffer- 
ing all the miseries of want accompanied by her own 
agonizing reflections. I discovered her in a miserable 
room ; no glass in the windows, no fire in the chimne}\ 
She was lying on something which had been a bed ; a 
child of a few clays old in her bosom, but no nourishment 
for it ; another child dead by her side, and a third ap- 
parently dying. Upon my entrance she covered her face 
with her hands. " I know you, sir ; you are come to up- 
braid me. Yes, I deserve it all ; but, by and by, my 
measure will be full." I burst into tears. " I come to 
upbraid you ? God forbid. No, poor sufferer ; I am 
come a messenger from that God, who giveth liberally, 
and upbraideth not. Be of good cheer ; you have still a 
Father who loves you with an everlasting love, and he has 
sent me to comfort you ; he has seen your affliction, and 
he has bid me relieve you." 

This seemed too much for the poor, forlorn creature ; she 
appeared in the moment of expiring. I ran out of the 
house, into a shop at the corner of the alley, the mistress 
of which was, to my knowledge, perfectly acquainted with 
the situation of the sufferer. I demanded why she thus 
neglected a human being. " Ah, the wretched crea- 
ture, she deserves this and more," was this good ivoman's 
reply. But, although neither the love of God, nor of human 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



175 



nature could move this hard-hearted woman, I had that in 
my pocket, which possessed, for her, an irresistible charm ; 
and at the hazard of my reputation, I bade her procure 
coal, a restorative cordial, and a blanket to cover the 
sufferer. I then proceeded to the dwelling of a lady, one 
of Mr. Eelly's congregation, to whom 1 had recently been 
introduced. I represented the situation, in which, in the 
midst of an opulent city, I had discovered a fellow-creature. 
The lady was extremely affected, and her aid was instan- 
taneous. The next day, Sunday, I again visited the 
poor penitent, whom i found relieved and comforted. 
She requested me, with many tears, to put up a note 
for her." There happened, on that day, to preach in 
the tabernacle a Mr. Edwards, whom I had formerly 
known, in connection with Mr. Wesley. I presented a 
note in the following words ; "The prayers of this con- 
gregation are requested in behalf of a widow indeed, 
confined to a bed of sickness, without property and en- 
compassed by the dying and the dead," I attended again 
in the tabernacle in the evening, and when the sermon 
closed, Mr. Edwards said : "If the person be here who 
put up the note this morning, in behalf of a widow indeed, 
I should be glad to speak with him in the vestry." Ac- 
cordingly presenting myself, I was very cordially received 
by Mr. Edwards, who observed, he was happy I was the 
person ; that his feelings had been greatly affected by the 
note ; that he had read it to a lady, at whose house he had 
dined, who, putting two guineas into his hand, requested 
him, if possible, to find out the widow indeed, and bestow 
them upon her. I combed this little sum to the sorrow- 
ing woman, with feelings which those who know how to 
sympathize with the unfortunate will easily understand ; 



176 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 

and I assured the poor mourner, that the God who gives 
and forgives had sent her another proof of his favor. 
" Arise," said I r " forlorn sufferer, and sin no more." I had 
the charge of the child's funeral ; the other recovered. The 
mother was soon abroad, and continued ever after to con- 
duct with exemplary propriet\~„ This instance, among a 
thousand others, proves that faith in the promises is the 
best stimulus to that pure and undefined religion which 
consists in relieving the oppressed of every description. 
And with gratitude I confess, that this pure and undefiled 
religion was, to me, a never-failing source of consolation., 
I was fall of the gospel. -Gladly would I have sacrificed 
my life, if I might thus have brought all men acquainted 
with the riches of the grace of the gospel of God our 
Saviour. And my soul was often wrought up to a degree 
of ecstasy by the views exhibited to my understanding in 
the pages of divine revelation. Yes, I have experienced 
that a belief of the truth disposes the mind to love God 7 
and to do good to man. And so greatly was my heart 
affected by the plan of redemption, that I have, in the 
midst of the streets of London, been so entranced in con- 
templatiug its glories, that I have only been awakened to 
recollection by the jostling crowd, who wondered as they 
passed. Yet, while in the fulness of my heart I embraced 
every opportunity of expatiating upon the great salvation 7 
evetything beside had los-t the power to charm, or even 
tranquillize, and the torturing sensations I experienced, 
from reflecting upon past times, were not to be expressed. 
Death had for me an angel's face, and I viewed this some^ 
times king of terrors as my emancipating friend. 

The forbearance of my creditors was at length exhausted, 
Debts crowded upon me. Demands, which I was utterly 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN - MURRAY. Ill 

enable to answer, were continually made. Had tlie health 
of my lovely wife been ^continued I was in a very fine way. 
Her sickness, her death, by dashing from me the cup of 
felicity, while expenses accumulated, debilitated m}^ mind, 
and rendered me unequal to those efforts which my exi- 
gencies required. In the midst of my supineness, I was 
taken by a writ, and borne to a sponging-hcuse. My 
sensations were, on this occasion, very different from 
those which I had formerly experienced in a similar situa- 
tion, and I derived from the expected seclusion a kind 
of melancholy pleasure. The officer was astonished at my 
apathy. I refused sustenance ; I had no inclination for 
food. I would swallow nothing but water. I would have 
no bed. A bed must be paid for, and I was penniless, 
I slept on the floor of a room hung with cobwebs, the 
windows of which were secured by iron bars. I prayed 
most fervently to Him, with whom are the issues of life and 
death, that as he had not allowed his creatures the privi- 
lege of departing out of time when and how the} T pleased, 
he would graciously vouchsafe to grant me my deliverance 
from a world where I could serve neither my God, my 
neighbor, nor myself. But, alas 1 as I have often found, 
death comes not at call. The barred windows admitted 
just light enough to announce the return of day; soon 
after which the keeper unlocked the door, and in a surly 
manner asked me how I did. " Indifferent, sir," I replied. 

"Bj* , I think so ! but, sir, give me leave to tell you, 

/ am not indifferent, and if you do not very soon settle 
with your creditors, I shall take the liberty, to lodge you 
in Newgate. I keep nobody in my house that does not 

spend anything, me. I cannot keep house, and pay 

rent and taxes, for nothing. When a gentleman behaves 
12 



ITS 



LIFE OF JREV. JOHN MURRAY. 



civil, I behave civil ; but. me, if they are sulky, why 

then do ye sec, I can be sulky too. So, sir, you had better 
tell me what, you intend to do." — " Nothing. " — H Noth- 
ing? me, that's a good one ; then by you shall 

soon see I will do something that you will not very well 
like." He then turned upon his heel, drew the door with 
a vengeance, and double-locked it. Soon after this hi& 
helpmate presented herself, and began to apologize for her 
husband ; said he was very quick ; hoped I would not be 
offended, for he was a very good man in the main ; that 
she believed there never was a gentleman in that house 
(and she would be bold to say, there had been as good 
gentlemen there as in any house in London) who had 
ever any reason to complain of his conduct. He would 
wait upon any of my friends to whom I should think fit 
to send him, and do all in his power to make matters easy. 
" And if y ou please, sir, you are welcome to come down 
into the parlor and breakfast with me." — " And pray, my 
good lady, where are you to get your pa} 7 ? " — " Oh, I will 
trust to that, sir ; I am sure you are a gentleman. Do, sir, 
come down and breakfast ; you will be better after break- 
fast. Bless your soul, sir, why there have been hundreds, 
who settled their affairs, and did very well afterwards." 
I was prevailed upon to go down to breakfast. There was, 
in the centre of the entry, a door half way up, with long 
pikes ; every window was barred- with iron ; escape was 
impossible ; and indeed I had no wish to escape. A kind 
of mournful insensibility pervaded my soul, for which I 
was not then disposed to account, but which I have since 
regarded as an instance of divine goodness, calculated to 
preserve my little remains of health, as well as that reason 
which had frequently tottered in its. seat* 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



179 



To the impertinent prattle of the female turnkey I paid 
no attention ; but, hastify swallowing a cup of tea, I re- 
tired to my prison. This irritated her. She expected I 
would have tarried below, and, as is the custom, summoned 
my friends, who, whether the}'' did anything for my advan- 
tage or not, would, by calling for punch, wine, etc., etc., 
un questionably contribute to the advantage of the house. 
But as I made no proposal of this kind, nor indeed ever 
intended so to do, they saw it was improbable the} 7 should 
reap any benefit by or from me ; and having given me a 
plentiful share of abuse, and appearing much provoked that 
they could not move me to anger, they were preparing to 
cany me to Newgate, there to leave me among other poor, 
desperate debtors ; and their determination being thus 
fixed, I was at liberty to continue in my gloomy apartment, 
and, what I esteemed an especial favor, to remain there 
uninterrupted. I received no invitation either to dinner, 
tea, or supper. They just condescended to inform me, 
when they came to lock me in, that I should have another 
lodging the ensuing night ; to which I made no reply. My 
spirits, however, sunk in the prospect of Newgate. There, 
I was well informed, I could not be alone. There, I knew, 
my associates would many of them be atrocious offenders, 
and I was, in truth, immeasurably distressed. It w T as now 
that every argument which I had ever read in favor of 
suicide was most officiously obtruded upon my mind, and 
warmty impressed upon my imagination. It w r as stated 
that my Almighty Father could not be angry with me for 
leaving such a world, in such circumstances. The opposi- 
tion of reason seemed to result from the prejudices of edu- 
cation ; " and," said illusive fancy, "as it is appointed for 
all men once to die, to do that to-day which I may do to- 



ISO 



LIFE OF RET. JOBST MURRAY, 



morrow, and what I must shortly do, cannot be very 
wrong." It is true, my monitor assured me that the God 
who had created me was the only proper judge of the exact 
moment when I ought to "be removed out of time; that 
he best knew what benefit might accrue to myself, or the 
community, by my longer continuance in this vale of tears* 
Yet these remarks, with many more of the same descrip- 
tion, were not sufficiently imposing to endow me with reso- 
lution still to " abide the felting of the pitiless storm; " and 
I determined to finish my wretched existence before the 
dawning of another morning. This was indeed a night of 
liorror. But in the moment of executing my fatal, my God- 
dishonoring purpose, the image of my Eliza, irradiating the 
prison walls, seemed to stand before me. She appeared m 
if commissioned by Heaven to soothe my tortured spirit. 
I prostrated myself before the perhaps imaginary vision T 
and, for the first moment since I had occupied this dreary 
abode, my heart softened, and a shower of tears came to 
my relief; yea, and I was relieved. My soul became calm 7 
and although every hope from this world was extinct in my 
bosom, 3 r et I believed I should be better able to accommo- 
date nryself to whatever sufferings the Almighty might 
think proper to inflict. 1 passed the remainder of the night 
in endeavoring to fortify my mind. A pleasing melanchoty 
took possession of my spirit. I drew consolation from 
remembering the time of suffering was not long ; that there 
was a rest, a life of uninterrupted felicity beyond the grave ; 
that of this rest, this life, no power on earth could deprive 
me ; and that I ought therefore quietly to wait, and patiently 
to hope, for the salvation of my God. Thus, although my 
night had been sleepless, my mind became so calm, and my 
spirit so greatly refreshed, that when the keeper opened the 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURE AY. 



181 



door in the morning to inform me that in three hours he 
should lodge me in Newgate, I answered, with unaffected 
composure, " I am ready, sir." 

In less than an hour, however, I had a new source of 
inquietude. My brother, William Neale, having received a 
hint of the arrest, had searched from place to place, until 
at length finding me, with tears of s}^mpathy he reproached 
me, even in the presence of the woman, for not immediately 
summoning him to my relief. This female turnkey, observ- 
ing the appearance of my brother, and the feeling manner 
in which he addressed me, began to hope, notwithstanding 
what she had termed my obstinacy, that they should reap 
some benefit from me after all. " Why," said William, 
" did 3'ou not send for me immediately upon your entering 
this house?" — "Ay, dear sir, so I said; why, dear sir, 
said I, cannot you send for some of your friends? for I 
know'd as how the gentleman had many friends, and my 
husband would have gone himself to any part of the town, 
with all his soul. No one can ever say that we were back- 
ward in doing everything in our power to serve and oblige 
every gentleman that ever came into our house. And, 
though I say it that should not say it, I believe there is not 
-a house in our way, in London, that has ever had more good 
people in it as a body may say, than ours. And, says I, 
Lord, sir, says I, you need not for to make j^ourself uneas}\ 
It is no crime, sa}^s I, to be in difficulty, or the like of that ; 
the best people in the world, says I, are in the greatest 
difficulties, says I. I am sure I have had my share of 
troubles and difficulties in this world, says I ; but I had 
better, sa} T s I, have them here, than in a worse place. I 
hope I shall atone for all my sins here." Thus did this 
creature's tongue run, and would have continued so to do, 



182 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



had not my brother asked if I had breakfasted. " Ay, sir, 
I am glad to hear you say something of that. The poor 
gentleman has not seemed to care anything about eating or 
drinking ; for my part I was frightened, in the dread of the 
poor gentleman's dying in the house. I would have urged 
him over and over again ; but, said I, maybe he will think 
as how that I mean my own interest, and so I did not care 
to say much about it ; but, sir, the poor gentleman can't 
think you have any interest." — "Get breakfast, ma'am." 
— "Tea or coffee, gentlemen?" — "Both, ma'am; and, 
do you hear, let us have a private room." — " Yes, sir." 
When left alone, my friend and brother again reproached 
me for delaying my communications to him. I frankly told 
him that I was so far from being disposed to solicit his aid, 
that I seriously regretted he had discovered me ; that I had 
no wish to involve my friends in my difficulties ; that I 
would much rather continue a prisoner for the remainder of 
ui3 r life than incur obligations which I had no prospect of 
discharging. " Poh, poll!" said he, " this i3 idle talk. 
You cannot believe you would be the on\y sufferer from 
your continuing endurance." — v " But I should not suffer 
long." — " You know not how long, however. Drop the sub- 
ject, here is breakfast. Sit you down, and let us breakfast 
together ; we will resume our subject by and b} r ." — " Yes, 
William, we will resume our subject by and by ; but suffer 
me to observe, you shall not come under bonds on my 
account, neither shall you discharge my debts. Consent to 
this stipulation, or I touch no breakfast." — " Pshaw, 
pshaw ! how whimsical ; but eat your breakfast, man. I 
promise I will do neither." We then breakfasted in peace, 
and I derived a mournful kind of pleasure from the assur- 
ance that I should not involve the brother of Eliza in my 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



183 



ruin. But bow great was nry astonishment, when he or- 
dered in the officer, who was also master of the house, 
when, after demanding and discharging his bill, he pro- 
duced a receipt in full from my creditor, and a complete 
discharge for me. Thus was I liberated from the fangs of 
these harpies, and I accompanied this commiserating brother 
to his hospitable mansion, where he related to me the means 
by which he had discovered me. 

Quitting this noble-minded friend, I hastened home to my 
suffering mother, who was in agonies on my account. 
Ignorant where I was, or what was my situation, her appre- 
hensions were of the most fearful kind. We mingled our 
tears, while she most affectionately endeavored to soothe 
me and to bind up my broken heart ; but my only remain- 
ing hope was, that, in this distempered state, I had not 
long to suffer. But, alas ! here also I was deceived. Long, 
very long have I continued, and with heartfelt sorrow, to 
tread this thorny maze. The brothers of my departed angel 
combined to help me forward ; many plans were proposed 
for me. A sum of money was hired, to place me as a part- 
ner in a mercantile house, and my brothers were my bonds- 
men ! I detested the thought of new prospects from such 
a world as this, but, to my beloved William, I was largely 
in debt. He had a growing family, and both gratitude 
as well as justice demanded I should make every effort for 
his remuneration. Thus I again became a melancholy man 
of business. It was supposed the road, not only to coin- 
petency, but to affluence, was open before me, and I was 
pronounced in flourishing circumstances. It was, for those 
who loved me, a pleasing dream ; but soon the golden vision 
vanished, and I awoke to the certainty of its being no more 
than a dream. 



184 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



Again I returned to my lonely dwelling, pleased with the 
thought that my solitude would no more be interrupted ; 
again I detested the world, and all which it could bestow. 
Thus a few more melancholy months rolled mournfully 
away, and I expected to finish my days in the retirement 
to which I was devoted. One consideration, however, still 
pressed heavily upon my mind. The very considerable 
sums for which I was indebted to my generous brother 
were to me a mighty burden ; and this beloved brother, 
availing himself of my anxiety on this account, once more 
set me afloat. Many were the efforts to which I consented ; 
great were my mental sacrifices. But one expedient re- 
mained ; it was a mournful expedient. I will not delineate. 
I pause ; I throw a veil over many revolving months ; let it 
suffice to say my purpose was gained, my debts were paid, 
my pecuniary circumstances easy ; but this was all. How 
mysterious are the ways of Heaven ! How many torturing 
scenes I have passed through ! But, blessed be God, 1 
have passed through them ! Thanks be to the Father of 
mercies, they can no more be reiterated. My newly ac- 
quired competency possessed no charms for me. I derived 
no satisfaction from anything around me. In fact, I had 
nothing in prospect, and hope seemed to have expired in 
my bosom. 



CHAPTER V. 



THE BEREAVED MAN, QUITTING HIS NATIVE SHORES, EM- 
BARKS FOR AMERICA, INDULGING THE FOND HOPE OF 
SEQUESTERING HIMSELF IN THE SOLITUDE FOR WHICH HE 

SIGHED. BUT, CONTRARY TO HIS EXPECTATIONS, A SERIES 

OF CIRCUMSTANCES COMBINE TO MAKE HIM A PROMULGA- 
TOR OF THE GOSPEL OF GOD, OUR SAVIOUR. 

Death's sable pall o'er all my pleasures thrown, 
My native isle to me a desert grown ; 
Sad and forlorn, to the New World I fled, 
Amid its wilds to shield my widowed head. 

Having, as has been described, laid the companion of 
my j^outh, the wife of my bosom, in the grave, my spirit 
still hovered round her tomb. It has been seen that my 
life seemed devoted to misery ; that I wept at all times, 
except when I turned my attention to that bright world, 
upon which I imagined I was verging ; that I wished the 
act of putting a period to a weary life had ranked among 
the Christian virtues ; that I never more passionately 
longed for any good, than for the period which was to put 
an end to my existence ; that I had but few acquaintances ; 
that I wished not to form new connections ; that I was 
sick of the world and all which it could bestow ; that the 
retirement of my lonely dwelling was most acceptable to 
me ; that I abhorred the thought of expecting anything like 
happiness in this world ; and that I thus passed weeks and 
months, verily believing that I should thus finish my daj^s, 
which I cherished a soothing hope would soon be numbered. 

185 



186 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



Through those sad scenes of sorrow to which I was con- 
demned, I had one friend, — one earthly friend, — from whom 
I derived real consolation. This friend was Mr. James 
Relly, the man who had been made an instrument, in the 
hand of God, of leading me into an acquaintance with the 
truth as it is in Jesus. This kind friend often visited me ; 
and in conversing with him I found my heart lightened of 
its burden. I could better bear the pitiless storm that beat 
upon me, when strengthened by the example of this son of 
sorrow. We frequently conversed upon things of the king- 
dom, and Mr. Relly, observing my heart much warmed and 
enlarged by these subjects, urged me to go forth and make 
mention of the loving-kindness of God. " No, no," I con- 
stantly replied, " it is not my design again to step forth in a 
public character. I have been a promulgator of falsehood." 
— " And why not," he would interrupt, " a promulgator of 
truth? Surely you owe this atonement to the God who 
hath irradiated your understanding by the light of his coun- 
tenance." But no argument he made use of was sufficiently 
strong to excite in my bosom a single wish that I had 
either inclination or capability for a character so arduous ; 
my heart's desire was to pass through life, unheard, unseen, 
unknown to all, as though I ne'er had been. I had an aver- 
sion to society ; and, since I could not be permitted to 
leave the world, I was solicitous to retire from its noise 
and its nonsense. I was, indeed, a burden to myself, and 
no advantage to anybody else. Every place, every thing 
served to render me more miserable, for they led my mind 
to the contemplation of past scenes, — of scenes never 
more to return. Such was the situation of mind, when, at 
the house of one of Mr. Kelly's hearers, ! accidentally met 
a gentleman from America. I listened with attention to 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



187 



his account of the country in which he had so long resided. 
I was charmed with his description of its extent, its forests, 
its lakes, its rivers, its towns, its inhabitants, the liberty 
they enjoyed, and the peace and plenty which they pos- 
sessed. I listened to everything with astonishment ; and I 
turned toward the New World my most ardent wishes. I 
communicated my desire to visit America to my mother, 
to my brethren. I was ridiculed for entertaining a project 
so chimerical. What, cross the Atlantic? For what pur- 
pose ? To whom would I go ? What could I do ? What 
object could I have in view ? I was unable to answer any 
of these questions. I had not a single acquaintance in 
America ; indeed, I had no wish to make acquaintance. I 
had nothing in prospect but a kind of negative happiness. 
I did not mean to commence a voyage in pursuit of bliss, but 
to avoid if possible a part of my misery. 

My mind for a considerable time labored with my pur- 
pose. Many difficulties interposed. I would infinitely have 
preferred entering that narrow house which is appointed 
for all living ; but this I was not permitted to do ; and I 
conceived to quit England and to retire to America was 
the next thing to be desired. Nights and days of deliber- 
ation at length convinced my judgment, and I was deter- 
mined to depart for the New World. My few friends urged 
me most earnestly to let them apply to those who had con- 
nections in America, for letters of introduction or recom- 
mendation. No, by no means ; this would most effectually 
defeat my purpose. I would rather not go than go thus. 
My object was to close my life in solitude, in the most 
complete retirement ; and with those views I commenced 
preparations for my voyage. I visited the brother of my 
departed wife, and I beheld both him and his children, with 



188 



LIFE OF ItEV. HUE RAY. 



the same eyes a dying person would have beheld them. 
Tears frequently stole down my face, and a thousand 
thoughts that served to harrow up my soul crowded upon 
me. I was determined not to repeat this scene, and I bade 
them adieu. Could I have done this upon a bed of death, 
how much happier should I have been ! 

The place I now occupied, to which I had recently re- 
moved, was extremely beautiful ; it was in the vicinity of 
London. I had a fine garden and a delightful prospect. 
But my better self had fled this globe, and with her fled 
my soul's calm sunshine, every heart-felt joy. I was, as I 
have frequently said, extremely wretched. I spake to the 
master of a vessel bound to New York. I agreed for my 
passage. My heart trembled ; it was worse than death. 
He fixed the time for my departure ; every arrangement 
was made. My brother, my widowed mother, — I met them 
in my parlor; it was torturing. "Sit down, my. son," 
said my weeping parent. My brother appeared a silent 
spectacle of sorrow. " I know you, my child, too well to 
expect I can alter your resolution. It is now too late to 
beseech you to reflect. I know you have long reflected, 
and I am astonished to find you still determined. You 
have a charming situation. Your prospects are good ; 
could you but make your mind easy, you might still be 
happy. Why, then, this aversion to life ? " I interrupted 
her by declaring that the whole world would not, could 
not, detain me longer in England ; yet I passionately 
loved my country, and my few remaining friends shared 
the best affections of my heart. This voluntary exile was 
worse than death ; but I was impelled to go, and go I 
must. My poor mother threw her fond arms about my 
neck. "Once more," said she, "you leave me, but not 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



189 



now as before. Then yon left me in my native place among 
my natural connexions ; then, too, I had hope you would 
again be restored to me ; but now — " and she burst into 
tears. My heart was agonized. I entreated her to con- 
sider me as on the bed of death, nor again to think of me 
as of a living son. " Be thankful, my mother, be thank- 
ful it is no worse ; be thankful I have not fallen a victim 
to the despondency of my spirit. I leave you with your 
children, with children kind and dutiful ; and, what is bet- 
ter than all, I leave you in the hands and under the care 
of a kind God, who hath said, k I will never leave you nor 
forsake you.'" — "But shall I hear from you, my son?" 
— " Do not, I entreat you, think of me as living. I go to 
bury myself in the wilds of America. No one shall hear 
from me, nor of me. I have done with the world." And 
prostrating nryself in the presence of my mother and my 
God, with streaming eyes and supplicating hands I com- 
mended nry soul, and all who were connected with me or 
allied to me, to that Being who orders all things according 
to his own good pleasure. 

I left my mother in an agony of affliction, and retired, 
but not to rest. My baggage had been sent on board ship 
in the morning ; and, accompanied by my brother, we took 
a boat and passed down to Gravesend, where I entered 
on board the vessel that was to convey me to America, 
which, in my then judgment, was tantamount to quitting 
the world. 

The vessel, however, did not sail immediately. I had 
an opportunity of going on shore again, and spending 
some time at Gravesend. Fond of being alone, I 
ascended a lofty eminence and sat me down under the 
shade of a wide-spreading tree ; here I had leisure and 



190 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



inclination for reflection. On one hand, I beheld the wide 
ocean, my path to the New World ; on the other, the 
Thames, upon the silvery surface of which many were 
passing to London. My mind rapidly ran over the vari- 
ous scenes I had witnessed since my arrival in that great 
city. I dwelt upon the good I had lost, never more to be 
recovered. My soul sickened at the recollection of my 
heavy bereavement, of the solitary situation to which I 
was reduced. I was going; from a world in which I had 
some associates, and some friends, into a country where 
every individual was unknown to me. I was going on 
board a vessel, to the crew of which I was an utter 
stranger ; all gloomy — truly gloomy. One idea, how- 
ever, continued my abiding consolation : I might soon 
finish my course, and bid an eternal adieu to sorrow of 
every description. Yet I trembled at what was before me. 
I was fearful I was wrong. 

Just at this period the wind shifted, the signal was made 
for sailing. But, before I descended the eminence, I once 
more threw my eyes upon the surrounding scenes. I felt 
destitute and forlorn ; tears gushed into my eyes. ' My 
domestic felicity ; my social connections ; the pleasure I 
had derived from listening to the testimony of truth, 
— these all rushed upon my recollection with subduing 
power. I prostrated myself upon the ground, with* 
streaming eyes exclaiming, " O thou dear parent earth, 
thou much-loved native soil, why not open and give me a 
quiet resting-place in thy bosom ? O thou dear, departed 
friend of my soul, hast thou no power to loose these 
chains that bind me to this state of being? Is there no 
eye to pity, no hand to help a wretched outcast ? Can I 
not be indulged with death?" But death comes not at 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



191 



call. In this situation I continued, bedewing the earth 
with my tears, until it pleased the kind God to speak 
peace to my tortured heart ; and I seemed to hear a voice 
calling unto me, "Be of good cheer, your God is with 
you. He will never leave 3 t ou nor forsake you. He is in 
the wide waste as in the full city. Be not afraid ; when 
thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee : fear 
no evil ; the friend of sinners will be with thee, and make 
thy way plain before thee. He will cause the desert to 
blossom as the rose. The young lions cry, and thy heav- 
enly Father feedeth them. Thou art nearer and dearer to 
thy heavenly Father than all the inhabitants of the deep, 
than all the tenants of the forest." Thus did the spirit of 
grace and consolation comfort my afflicted heart, so that, 
after bidding an affectionate adieu to the scenes of the 
morning and meridian of my days ; after taking what I 
believed an eternal leave of my native soil, of my friends 
and relatives ; after dropping man} 7 tears to the memory 
of each ; and, last of all, to the ashes of my dear self; 
frith an aching head, a pained heart, and e} T es swelled by 
weeping, on Saturday evening, July twenty-first, in the 
year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and sevent} r , 
1 hastened on board the brig " Hand-in-hand." And, 
upon the ensuing morning, as we passed round Beachy 
Head, I beheld the white cliffs of Albion. No lanfma^e 
can describe my sensations, as those white cliffs receded 
from ray view, as 1 took a last look of England. I re- 
tired to m}' cabin, covered my face, and wept until I was 
complete^ exhausted. But God was pleased to lift up 
the light of his countenance upon me. My voyage passed 
more pleasantly than I had calculated ; and I was the 
happy instrument of contributing to the comfort of many 



192 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



on board. I was not sick upon the passage. I became 
more than reconciled to my circumstances, and I almost 
dreaded the thought of reaching my destined port. 

I did not anticipate my fate upon my arrival. I had 
determined upon nothing, and yet I was not distressed. 
A perfect indifference pervaded my soul. I had in my 
trunks many articles of clothing, more than I should 
want ; for I did not calculate upon being many years an 
inhabitant of this globe. I had some money ; I had my 
Bible, and a very large collection- of the letters of my 
Eliza, in which I took much delight ; and, upon the whole, 
I fancied myself rather rich than otherwise. In this state 
of resignation, indifference, or insensibility, I passed the 
greater part of the voyage. 

As we drew near the coast of America, I experienced 
none of those delightful sensations which swelled my 
bosom a few 3 T ears before, on returning to England from 
Ireland ; neither did I experience those terrifying appre- 
hensions, for which there was such abundant reason, on ad- 
vancing to an unknown countiy, without patron or friend. 
My mind was calm and unruffled, neither elated by hope 
nor depressed by fear. I had obtained precisely that situa- 
tion for which I had supplicated Heaven, when entering 
upon this untried state of being, humbly depending upon 
that God who was in every place the same unchanging 
friend of the creature whom he had made. I was, as it 
were, between two worlds. One I had tried, and, finding it 
contained more of bitter than of sweet, I bad turned from 
it with disgust. I advanced toward the other, without high- 
raised expectations, without fearful apprehensions. I was 
pleased with the wonders of my God, as I beheld them in 
the great deep. I was amazed at the variety of its inhabi- 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



193 



tants ; yet how small a part could I trace ! I was astonished 
at the number of birds flitting over the ocean ; and I 
thought if provision was made for them I had no reason 
for fear. On a brilliant moonlight evening our ship struck 
on something, which threw us off our seats ! What could 
it be ? We were in the centre of the Western Ocean. We 
soon discovered it was a sleeping whale. We also beheld 
the water-spout, so often described as a surprising phe- 
nomenon. Thus was my wondering mind beguiled of its 
sorrows. We saw a number of vessels on our way, some 
passing to the country we had left. My heart sighed as 
they pursued their course, and I frequently and audibly 
exclaimed, " Dear native country, never more to be seen by 
me ! " nor was the exclamation unaccompanied by a tear. 

We were, as it was supposed, within three da} r s of New 
York, when we met a vessel bound for England. Our mer- 
chant questioned the captain, respecting the state of public 
affairs in America. The Americans had, some time be- 
fore, entered into the non-importation agreement, and our 
merchant was anxious, on account of the goods he had on 
board. The captain assured him they had given up the 
agreement in Philadelphia, but that they zealously adhered 
to it in New York. Our captain, therefore, received im- 
mediate orders to change the course of the vessel for Phila- 
delphia ; but when we had got near enough to this harbor 
to take a pilot, the pilot informed us, the reverse of the in- 
formation we had received was the truth ; upon which the 
merchant determined to go as far as the city, there obtain 
a certainty, and, if so, to proceed to New York with all 
possible despatch. We were a considerable time passing 
up the Delaware, and, upon a fine day, while we lay at 

13 



194 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



anchor, the merchant proposed going on shore, for the pur- 
pose of obtaining corn and fruit. 

It was in the month of September when we arrived in 
the Delaware. The country upon the banks of this fine 
river exhibited a most enchanting appearance, especially 
to those who had been for many weeks out of sight of land, 
and had never seen those shores before. As we drew near 
the land, the woods, seeming to grow out of the water, had 
to me a very uncommon appearance ; but everything in this 
country was uncommon. We went on shore, and ascend- 
ed a gentle acclivity, when, entering into a small log- 
house, I was astonished to see a woman preparing some ex- 
cellent wild ducks for dinner. Live in a log-house, and 
feed upon ducks ! We passed into her garden, where, 
amid its rich variety, my attention was arrested by a 
large peach-tree, loaded with the best fruit, bending to 
the earth ! I was beyond expression charmed and de- 
lighted, and my heart beat with grateful affection to the 
universal Parent, for giving the inhabitants of this New 
World thus liberally to enjo}'. When we reached Philadel- 
phia, I was amazed to behold a city of such magnitude, in 
a country which I had considered as a wilderness. The 
captain supposed it a disappointment to me that we had 
not put into New York, as that was the place of my desti- 
nation. I requested him to make himself easy, as it was a 
matter of perfect indifference to me upon what part of the 
country I landed ; and, if he could procure me a private 
lodging, I would go on shore in this city. This he told me 
he would do ; but this he could not do, at least in the circle 
of his connections. He then proposed my going by land to 
New York. This also I was willing to do, if he would let 
me know how. He would send and take me a place in the 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



195 



stage. The stage had been gone some time. He then pro- 
posed I should tarry in the vessel and set out with him the 
next morning to New York ; to which arrangement I agreed. 
The other passengers left us in Philadelphia. The water was 
smooth, and our passage pleasant, until we were, as was 
supposed, near Sandy Hook ; a dense fog then arose, which 
Avas sufficiently thick to prevent our seeing the end of our 
bowsprit. A sloop shot past us, and we inquired how far we 
were from Sandy Hook. The answer was seventy miles, but 
we understood seven, and we passed on, and in a few moments 
were in the midst of the breakers ; the vessel struck upon 
the bar, but passed over, into a place we afterwards learned 
was called Cranberry Inlet. The fog now dispersed, and 
we discovered we were nearly on shore ; our anchors, how- 
ever, saved us ; but we were greatly alarmed, and never ex- 
pected to get off again. The sloop with which we had 
spoken entered this inlet before us, and was light. The 
captain proposed to engage this sloop to receive on board 
as much of our cargo as she could contain ; thus by light- 
ening his vessel to give himself the only probable chance 
of getting off. This was effectuated, and night coming on 
the captain, with many apologies, requested me to lodge on 
board the sloop, inasmuch as there were many valuable 
articles, which he was afraid to trust without a confidential 
person. To this I readily consented, and, taking my Bible 
and my purse, I went on board the sloop. The plan of the 
captain was, supposing the morning should present do pros- 
pect of getting off, to deposit the remainder of his cargo 
upon the beach; but, if they should get off, we were im- 
mediately to follow ; the goods were to be replaced ; and 
the sloop dismissed. I went not to bed, and when the 
morning dawned, just at high water, the wind blowing from 



196 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



the shore, they got off, making a signal for us to follow ; 
and with all possible despatch we prepared to obey ; but the 
wind instantly shifting drove us back, and they proceeded 
on to New York, leaving us in the bay. 

It proved, upon examination, we had no provisions on 
board ; we were therefore necessitated to lock up the vessel, 
and go on shore in search of sustenance. It was the after 
part of the day before we could effectuate our purpose, when 
I went with the boatmen to a tavern, and, leaving them 
there, pursued a solitary walk through the woods, which 
seemed to surround this place. My mind was greatly 
agitated. I was now in the New World ; and in just such 
a part of this New World as had appeared so desirable in 
prospect. Here I was as much alone as I could wish, and 
my heart exclaimed, " Oh that I had in this wilderness the 
lodging-place of a poor wayfaring man; some cave, some 
grot, some place where I might finish my days in calm 
repose I " 

As thus I passed along, thus contemplating, thus sup- 
plicating, I unexpectedly reached a small log-house, and 
saw a girl cleaning a fresh fish. I requested she would sell ■ 
it to me. " No, sir, you will find a very great plenty at the 
next house ; we want this." — " The next house, what, this ? " 
pointing to one in the woods. " Oh, no, sir, that is a meet- 
ing-house." * A meeting-house here in these woods? 
I was exceedingly surprised. " You must pass the meet- 
ing-house, sir ; and a little way farther on you will see the 
other house, where you will find fish enough." I went for- 
ward. I came to the door ; there was indeed a large pile 
of fish of various sorts, and at a little distance stood a tall 
man, rough in appearance, and evidently advanced in years. 
* Potter Meeting-house. 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



197 



" Pray, sir, will you have the goodness to sell me one of 
those fish?" — " No, sir." — " That is strange, when you 
have so many, to refuse me a single fish I " — "I did not 
refuse you a fish, sir. .You are welcome to as many as 
you please ; but I do not sell this article. I do not sell fish, 
sir. I have them for taking up, and you may obtain them 
the same way." I thanked him. u But," said he, "what 
do you want of those fish?" I informed him that the 
mariners, who belonged to the sloop at a distance, were at 
a tavern, and would be glad if I could procure them some- 
thing for supper. "Well, sir, I will send my man over 
with the fish ; but you can tarry here, and have some 
dressed for yourself." — " No, sir, it is proper I should see 
how they are accommodated." — u Well, sir, you shall do 
as you please ; but, after supper, I beg you would return, 
and take a bed with us ; you will be better pleased here 
than at a tavern." I gratefully thanked him, and cheerfully 
accepted his offer. I was astonished to see so much 
genuine politeness and urbanity under so rough a form ; 
but my astonishment was greatly increased on my return. 
His room was prepared, his fire bright, and his heart open. 
" Come," said he, " my friend, I am glad you have returned. 
I have longed to see you ; I have been expecting you a long 
time." I was perfectly amazed. " What do you mean, 
sir?" — " I must go on in my own way. I am a poor igno- 
rant man ; I neither know how to read nor write. I was 
born in these woods, and uvy father did not think proper 
to teach me my letters. I worked on these grounds until 
I became a man, when I went coasting voyages from hence 
to New York. I was then desirous of becoming a husband ; 
but, in going to New York, I was pressed on board a man- 
of-war, and I was taken in Admiral Warren's ship to 



198 



LIFE OF REV. JOBN MURRAY. 



Cape Breton. I never drank any rum, — so they saved my 
allowance ; but I would not bear an affront, — so if any of 
the officers struck me I struck them again ; but the admiral 
took my part, and called me his new-light man. When we 
reached Louisbourg I ran awa}^, and travelled barefooted 
through the country, and almost naked to New York, where 
I was known, and supplied with clothes and rnoney, and 
soon returned to this place, when I found my girl married. 
This rendered me very unhappy, but I recovered my tran- 
quillity, and married her sister. I sat down to work ; got 
forward very fast ; constructed a saw-mill ; possessed my- 
self of this farm, and five hundred acres of adjoining land. 
I entered into navigation, became the owner of a sloop, 
and have got together a large estate. I am, as I said, un- 
able either to write or read, but I am capable of reflection. 
The sacred Scriptures have been often read to me, from 
which I gather that there is a great and good Being, to 
whom we are indebted for all we enjoy. It is this great 
and good Being, who hath preserved and protected me 
through innumerable dangers ; and, as he had given me a 
house of uiy own, I conceived I could not do less than to 
open it to the stranger, let him be who he would ; and 
especially, if a travelling minister passed this way, he 
always received an invitation to put up at my house, and 
hold his meetings here. I continued this practice for more 
than seven years, and, illiterate as I was, I used to con- 
verse with them, and was fond of asking them questions. 
They pronounced me an odd mortal, declaring themselves 
at a loss what to make of me ; while I continued to affirm, 
that I had but one hope : I believed that Jesus Christ 
suffered death for my transgressions, and this alone was 
sufficient for me* At length my wife grew weary of 



LIFE VF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 199 

having meetings held in her house, and I determined to 
build a house for the worship of God. 

" I had no children, and I knew 1 was beholden to Almighty 
God for everj'thing which I possessed ; and it seemed right 
I should appropriate a part of what he had bestowed, for 
his service. My neighbors offered their assistance. But 
' No,' said I ; ' God has given me enough to do this work 
without your aid, and, as he has put it into my heart to do, 
so will I do.' — 4 And who,' it was asked, 4 will be your 
preacher? ' I answered, ' God will send me a preacher, 
and of a very different stamp from those who have hereto- 
fore preached in ray house. The preachers we have heard 
are perpetually contradicting themselves; but that God, 
who has put it into my heart to build this house, will send 
one who shall deliver unto me his own truth, — who shall 
speak of Jesus Christ and his salvation.' When the house 
was finished, I received an application from the Baptists ; 
and I told them, if they could make it appear that God 
Almighty was a Baptist, the building should be theirs at 
once. The Quakers and Presbj^terians received similar 
answers. 4 No,' said I, ' as I firmly believe that all man- 
kind are equally dear to Almighty God, they shall all be 
equalty welcome to preach in this house which I have built.' 
Hfy neighbors assured me I never should see a preacher 
whose sentiments corresponded with my own ; but my 
uniform reply was, that I assuredly should. I engaged the 
first year with a man whom I greatly disliked. We parted, 
and for some } T ears we have had no stated minister. My 
friends often ask me, ' Where is the preacher of whom you 
spake?' And my constant reply has been, 'He will by 
and by make his appearance.' The moment I beheld your 
vessel on shore, it seemed as if a voice had audibly sounded 



200 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



in my ears, 4 There, Potter, in that vessel east away on 
that shore, is the preacher you have been so long expect- 
ing/ I heard the voice, and I believed the report ; and 
when you came up to my door and asked for the fish, the 
same voice seemed to repeat, ' Potter, this is the man, this 
is the person, whom I have sent to preach in your house ! ' 99 

I was astonished, immeasurably astonished, at Mr. Pot- 
ter's narrative ; but } T et I had not the smallest idea it could 
ever be realized. I requested to know what he could discern 
in my appearance, which could lead him to mistake me for 
a preacher. " What," said he, " could I discern, when you 
were in the vessel, that could induce this conclusion ? No, 
sir, it is not what I saw, or see, but what I feel, which pro- 
duces in my mind a full conviction." 

" But, my dear sir, you are deceived, indeed you are 
deceived. I never shall preach in this place nor anywhere 
else." 

"Have 3^ou never preached? Can you say you have 
never preached ? " 

"I cannot ; but I never intend to- preach again." 

"Has not God lifted up the light of his countenance* 
upon you ? Has he not shown you his truth ? " 

" I trust he has." 

" And how dare you hide this truth ? Do men light a 
candle to put it under a bushel? If God has shown you 
his salvation, why should you not show it to- your fellow- 
men ? But I know that you will. I am sure God Almighty 
has sent you to us for this purpose. I am not deceived ; I 
am sure I am not deceived." 

I was terrified as the man thus went on ; and I began t& 
fear that God, who orders all things according to the coun- 
sel of his own will, had ordained that thus it should be, 



ZIFE OF HEY. JOHN MURRAY. 



and my heart trembled at the idea. I endeavored, however, 
to banish my own fears, and to silence the warm-hearted 
man, by observing that I was in the place of a supercargo; 
that property to a large amount had been entrusted to my 
•care ; and that the moment the wind changed I was under 
the most solemn obligations to depart 

"The wind will never change, sir, until you have deliv- 
ered to us, in that meeting-house, a message from God." 

Still I was resolutely determined never to enter any 
pulpit as a preacher* Yet being rendered truly unhappy, I 
ibeggod I might be shown to my bed. He requested I would 
pray with them, if I had no objection. I asked him how 
be could suppose I had any objection to pra3 T ing. The 
Quakers, he said, seldom prayed; and there were others, 
who visited him, who were not in the habit of praying. " I 
never propose prayer, sir, lest it should not meet with the 
approbation of those with whom I sojourn ; but I am 
always pleased when prayer is proposed to me."" I prayed, 
and my heart was greatly enlarged and softened. When 
we parted for the night, my kind host solemnly requested 
that I would think of what he had said. Alas I he ffeed 
not to have made this request; it was impossible to banish 
it from my mind. When I entered my chamber, and shut 
the door, I burst into tears. I would have given the world 
that I had never left England. I felt as if the hand of God 
was in the events which had brought me to this place, and 
I prayed most ardently that God would assist and direct 
me by his counsel. I presented nryself before him as a 
man bowed down by calamity; a melancholy outcast, 
driven by repeated afflictions of body and of mind to seek 
refuge in private life ; to seek solitude amid the wilds of 
America. " Thou knowest," said my oppressed spirit, 



202 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY* 



" thou knowest, O Lord, that if it had pleased thee, I would 
have preferred death as the safest and most sure retreat ; 
hut thou hast not seen fit to indulge my wishes in this 
respect. In thy providence thou hast brought me into this 
New World. Thou seest how I am oppressed by solicita- 
tions to speak unto the people the words of life. Thou 
knowest that I am not sufficient for these things. Thou 
God of my fathers, thou God of the stranger, look with 
pity upon the poor, lonely wanderer now before thee. O 
thou that sittest in the heavens, and rulest in the earth, and 
who assurest us that a hair of our head cannot fall unno- 
ticed by thee ! — O thou who kindly directest us, thy poor, 
dependent creatures, to acknowledge thee in all their ways, 
and to make their requests known unto thee in every time 
of affliction, behold thy poor dependant, supplicating thee 
for thy kind direction and protection ! If thou hast indeed 
put it into the heart of thy servant to demand of me, the 
meanest and weakest of all to whom thou didst ever give 
power to believe in the name of thy Son, to declare unto 
him and the people of this place the gospel of thy grace, 
O GPod ! in mercy prepare me, prepare me for so vast an 
undertaking, and let thy presence be with me. Strengthen 
me, O Lord, by thy mighty Spirit. And if it be not thy 
pleasure thus to employ me, — for thou, O God, wilt send 
by whom thou wilt send, — graciously manifest thy will, 
that so I may not by any means be drawn into a snare ? 
Thou art the sinner's friend ; thou art the only friend I have. 
To thee, O thou compassionate Father of my spirit, encour- 
aged by thy gracious promises, I make application. Pity, 
oh, pity the destitute stranger ; leave me not, I most ear- 
nestly entreat thee, to my own direction." 

Thus did I pray, thus did I weep, through the greater 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



203 



part of the night ; dreading more than death, even suppos- 
ing death an object of dread, the thought of engaging as a 
public character. On the one hand, I discovered that if 
there be a ruling Power, a superintending Providence, the 
account given by the extraordinary man under whose roof 
I reposed, evinced its operation ; that, if the heart of the 
creature be indeed in the hand of the Creator, it was mani- 
fest that God had disposed the heart of this man to view 
me as his messenger, sent for the purpose of declaring the 
counsel of his peace to his creatures. On the other 
hand, I recollected that the heart is deceitful above all 
things ; that the devices of the adversary are manifold ; and 
that, had it been the will of God that I should have become 
a promulgator of the gospel of his grace, he would have 
qualified me for an object of such infinite magnitude. If I 
testified of Jesus according to the Scriptures, I well knew 
upon what 1 must calculate : the clergy of all denominations 
would unite to oppose me. For I had never met with any 
individual of that order, either in the Church of Rome or 
elsewhere, who were believers of the gospel that God 
preached unto Abraham, that in Christ Jesus all the fain- 
lies of the earth should be blessed ; nor did the} T , as far as I 
had known, embrace the ministry of reconciliation com- 
mitted unto the apostles, namely, that 44 God was in Christ 
reconciling the tuorld unto himself, not imputing unto them 
their trespasses nor did the3 T acknowledge the restitution 
of all things, testified by all God's holy prophets ever since 
the world began. To these doctrines I supposed clergymen 
in this, as well as in the country I had left, united in their 
opposition ; and, convinced that there were no enemies in 
the world more powerful than the clergy, I trembled at the 
thought of stemming the full tide of their displeasure. I 



LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY, 



was persuaded that people in general, being under the? 
dominion of the clergy, would hate where they hated, and 
report what they reported. Acquainted in some measure 
with human nature and with divine revelation, I was cer- 
tain that if 1 appeared in the character of a real disciple of 
Christ Jesus, — if I dared to declare the whoie truth of God 7 
— all manner of evil would be said of me j and, although it 
might be falsely said, while the inventor of the- slander 
would be conscious of its falsehood, the majority of those- 
who heard would yield it credit, anel I should become the 
victim of their credulity, 

I knew how Mr, Kelly had suffered in England, and the? 
apostles in Judea ; and, being a believer in the testimony 
of God, I was assured if my doctrines were the same, my 
treatment would be similar. All this rose to my view, and 
the prospect was tremendous. Thus I passed the night 7 
and the ensuing morning witnessed my indisposition both 
of body and mind. My good friend renewed his solicita- 
tions. " Will you, sir, speak to me and to my neighbors 
of the things which belong to our peace?" Seeing only 
thick woods, the tavern across the field excepted, I re- 
quested to know what he meant by neighbors, M O sir, 
we assemble a large congregation whenever the meeting- 
house is "opened ; indeed, when my father first settled here, 
he was obliged to go twenty miles to grind a bushel of 
corn ; but there are now more than seven hundred inhabi- 
tants within that distance. 57 I was amazed ; indeed, every- 
thing I saw and everything I heard amazed me. Nothing, 
except the religion of the people, resembled what I had 
left behind. 

My mind continued subjected to the most torturing re- 
flections. I could not bring myself to yield to the entreaties 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



205 



of Mr. Potter, and still I urged the necessity of departing 
the moment the wind would answer. Mr. Potter was posi- 
tive the wind would not change until I had spoken to the 
people. Most ardestly did I desire to escape the importu- 
nities of this good man. The idea of a crowd, making a 
public exhibition of nryself, was to m5 T desolate, woe-worn 
mind intolerable; and the suspense in which I was held 
was perfectly agonizing. I could not forbear acknowledg- 
ing an uncommon coincidence of circumstances ; the 
hopes and fears of this honest man, so long in operation ; 
yet he evinced great warmth of disposition, and was evi- 
dently tinctured with enthusiasm ; but, after making every 
allowance for these propensities, it could not be denied that 
an overruling Power seemed to operate in an unusual and 
remarkable manner. I could not forbear looking back upon 
the mistakes made during our passage, even to the coming 
in to this particular inlet, where no vessel of the size of the 
brig " Hand-in-hand, " had ever before entered ; every cir- 
cumstance contributed to bring me to this house. Mr. 
Potter's address on seeing me, his assurance that he knew 
I was on board the vessel when he saw her at a distance, 
■ — all these considerations pressed with powerful conviction 
on my mind, and I was ready to sa} T , If God Almighty 
has, in his providence, so ordered events as to bring me 
into this countiy for the purpose of making manifest the 
savor of his name, and of bringing many to the knowledge 
of the truth; though I would infinitely prefer death to 
entering into a character which will subject me to what is 
infinitely worse than death ; 3'ct, as the issues of life and 
death are not under my direction, am I not bound to submit 
to the dispensations of Providence? I wished, however, to 
be convinced that it was the will of God that I should 



206 



LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 



step forth in a character which would be considered as 
obnoxious, as truly detestable. I was fully convinced it 
was not by the will of the flesh, nor by the will of the 
world, nor by the will of the god of this world ; all these 
were strongly opposed thereto. One moment, I felt my 
resolution give way ; the path pointed out seemed to 
brighten upon me ; but the next, the difficulties from within 
and without obscured the prospect, and I relapsed into a 
firm resolution to shelter myself in solitude from the 
hopes, and fears, and the various contentions of men. 

While I thus balanced, the Sabbath advanced. I had 
ventured to implore the Oocl who had sometimes conde- 
scended to indulge individuals with tokens of his approba- 
tion, graciously to indulge me, upon this important 
occasion ; and that, if it were his will, I should obtain the 
desire of my soul, by passing through life in a private 
character. If it were not his will that I should engage as 
a preacher of the ministry of reconciliation, he would 
vouchsafe to grant me such a wind as might bear me from 
this shore before the return of another Sabbath. I deter- 
mined to take the changing of the wind for an answer ; and, 
had the wind changed, it would have borne on its wings full 
conviction, because it would have corresponded with my 
wishes. But the wind changed not, and Saturday morning 
arrived. " Well," said my anxious friend, "now let me give 
notice to my neighbors." — " No, sir, not yet; should the 
wind change in the middle of the afternoon I must depart." 
No tongue can tell, nor heart conceive, how much I suffered 
this afternoon ; but the evening came on, and it was neces- 
sary I should determine ; and at last, with much fear and 
trembling, I } r ielcled a reluctant consent. Mr. Potter then 
immediately despatched his servants, on horseback, to spread 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



207 



the intelligence far and wide, and they were to continue 
their information until ten in the evening. 

I had no rest through the night. What should I say, or 
how address the people ? Yet I recollected the admonition 
of our Lord : " Take no thought what you shall say ; it 
shall he given } T ou, in that same hour, what you shall say." 
Ay, but this promise was made to his disciples. Well, by 
this, I shall know if I am a disciple. If God, in his provi- 
dence, is committing to me a dispensation of the gospel, he 
will furnish me with matter, without my thought or care. 
If this thing be not of God, he will desert me, and this shall 
be another sign ; on this, then, I rested. Sunday morning 
succeeded ; my host was in transports. I was — I cannot 
describe how I was. I entered the house ; it was neat and 
convenient, expressive of the character of the builder. 
There were no pews ; the pulpit was rather in the Quaker 
mode ; the seats were constructed with backs, roonry, and 
even elegant. I said there were no pews ; there was one 
large square pew, just before the pulpit ; in this sat the ven- 
erable man and his family, particular friends, and visiting 
strangers. In this pew sat, upon this occasion, this happy 
man, and, surely, no man upon this side of heaven was ever 
more complete^ happy. He looked up to the pulpit with 
eyes sparkling with pleasure ; it appeared to him, as the 
fulfilment of a promise long deferred ; and he reflected, with 
abundant consolation, on the strong faith which he had 
cherished, while his associates would tauntingly question, 
" Well, Potter, where is this minister who is to be sent to 
you ? " — " He is coming along in God's own good time." — 
" And do you still believe any such preacher will visit 
you ? " — "Oh, j'es, assuredly." He reflected upon all this, 
and tears of transport filled his eyes ; he looked round upon 



2Q& 



LIFE OF EEY. JOHN MURRAY* 



the people, raid every feature seemed to- say, "There, whaS 
think you now ? " When I returned to- his house y he caught 
ine in his arms. u Now, now, I am willing to depart- O my 
God ! I will praise thee ; thou hast granted me my desire. 
After this truth I have been seeking, but I have never found 
it until now. I knew that God,, who put it into my heart 
to build a house for his worship, would send a servant of 
his own to- proclaim his own gospel. I knew he would ; I 
knew the time was come, when I saw the vessel grounded ; 
I knew 3 t ou were the man, when I saw } r ou approach my 
door, and. my heart leaped for joy J' Visitors poured into 
the house ; he took each by the hand. " This is the hap- 
piest day of my life," said the transported man. "There r 
neighbors, there is the minister God promised to send me. 
How do}*ou like God's minister ? " I ran from the company,, 
and, prostrating myself before the throne of grace, besought 
my God to take me, and do with me whatever he pleased. 
" I am," said I, " I am, O Lord God, in thine hand,, as clay 
in the hand of the potter. If thou, in thy providence, hast 
brought me into this New "World to make known unto this; 
people the grace and the blessings of the new covenant ; if 
thou hast thought proper, by making choice of so weak an 
instrument, to confound the wise ; if thou hast been pleased 
to show to a babe, possessing neither wisdom nor prudence,, 
what thou hast hid from the wise and prudent, — be it so y 
O Father, for so it seemeth good in thy sight- But, O my 
merciful God ! leave me not, I beseech thee y for a single 
moment ; for without thee I can do nothing- Oh, make thy 
strength perfect in my weakness, that the world may see 
that thine is the power, and that, therefore, thine ought to 
be the glor}'." Thus my heart prayed, while supplicating 
tears bedewed my face, 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



209 



I felt, however, relieved and tranquillized, for I had 
power given me to trust in the Lord, to stay upon the God 
of my salvation. Immediately upon my return to the 
company, my boatmen entered the house. "The wind is 
fair, sir." — " Well, then, we will depart. It is late in the 
afternoon, but, no matter, I will embark directly. I have 
been determined to embrace the first opportunity, well 
knowing the suspense the captain must be in and the 
pain attendant thereon." Accordingly, as soon as matters 
could be adjusted, I set off; but not till my old friend, 
taking me by the hand, said, " You are now going to New 
York. I am afraid you will, when there, forget the man 
to whom your Master sent you. But, I do beseech you, 
come back to me again as soon as possible." 

The tears gushed into his eyes, and, regarding me with 
a look indicative of the strongest affection, he threw his 
arms around me, repeating his importunities that I would 
not unnecessarily delay my return. I was greatly affected, 
reiterating the strongest assurances that I would conform 
to his wishes. "Why should I not?" said I. " What is 
there to prevent me ? I do not know an individual in New 
York. No one knows me. What should induce me to 
tarry there?" — "Ah, my friend," said he, "you will find 
many in New York who will love and admire you, and 
they will wish to detain you in that city. But you have 
promised you will return, and I am sure you will perform 
your promise. And in the mean time may the God of 
heaven be with you." Unable to reply, I hurried from his 
door ; and, on entering the vessel, I found the good old 
man had generously attended to what had made no part 
of my care, by making ample provision both for me and 
the boatmen during our little voyage. 
14 



LIFE OF J2EF. JOHN MITER AY* 



I retired to the cabin. I had leisure for serious reflect 
tions, and serious reflections crowded upon me. I was:- 
astonished, I was lost in wonder, in love, and praise. I 
saw, as evidently as I could see any object visibly ex- 
hibited before me, that the good hand of God was in all 
these things. "It is," I spontaneously exclaimed, "it is 
the Lord's doings, and it is marvellous in my eyes." It 
appeared to me that I could trace the hand of God in 
bringing me through a long chain of events, to such a 
place, to such a person, so evidently prepared' for my re- 
ception. And, while I acknowledged the will of God 
manifested respecting my public character,- 1 at the sam& 
moment distinguished the kindness of God evinced by his ; 
indulging me with a retirement so exactly suited to my 
wishes. The house was neat, the situation enchanting ; it 
was on the margin of the deep, on the side of an extensive- 
bay, which abounded with fish of every description, and a 
great variety of water-fowl. On the other side of thi& 
dwelling, after passing over a few fields (which at that 
time stood thick with corn), venerable woods, that seemed 
the coevals of time, presented a " scene for contemplation 
fit, towering, majestic, and filling the devotional mind with 
a religious awe/' I reflected, therefore, with augmenting 
gratitude to my heavenly Father upon the pressing invita- 
tion he had put into the heart of his faithful servant to 
give me. And I determined to hasten back to this de- 
lightful retreat, where nothing but the grandeur of simple- 
nature exhibited in the surrounding objects, and the gen- 
uine operations of the divine Spirit on the heart of the 
hospitable master, awaited my approach.* 

*" Cranberry Inlet," says Rev. A. C. Thomas, in an account of a visit to 
Good Luck, " was situated about sixty miles east of Philadelphia.- I say was 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



211 



I had not the least idea of tarrying in New York a 
moment longer than to see the captain, deliver up my 
charge, and receive my baggage ; and I resolved to return 
by the first opportunity to my benevolent friend. And 
thus did I make up ray mind : " Well, if it be so, I am 
grateful to God that the business is thus adjusted. If I 
must be a promulgator of these glad, these vast, yet ob- 
noxious tidings, I shall, however, be sheltered in the 
bosom of friendship, in the bosom of retirement. I will 
employ myself on the grounds of my friend, thus earning 

— for it was entirely filled up with sand many years ago, and the beach is now 
as high at that place as at any other in the vicinity, though not so wide. 

" I visited the house in which Totter lived and died. It is situated less than 
half a mile east of Good Luck. An addition has been built to it, and the ap- 
pearance of the whole exterior is changed ; but the interior remains as it was 
in the days of Potter. It is a plain, substantial building, f have been invited 
to make it my home when next I visit the neighborhood. 

" The meeting-house stands in the edge of a beautiful wood. The exterior 
presents an aged appearance; but the interior, constructed of the best cedar, 
manifests no signs of decay. The ' large square pew 7 (of which Murray 
speaks), long occupied by Potter and his family, was removed about a year ago, 
and plain benches substituted. The pulpit has been somewhat cut down aS 
cither end. In other respects the building remains in its original state. It was 
left by will to John Murray, for the use of all denominations. By the mis- 
management of the executor, it became necessary to sell a part of the estate to 
pay certain demands against it, — of the injustice of which, however, the heirs 
entertained no doubt. In disposing of the property contiguous to Good Luck- 
no reservation of the meeting-house was made in the deed. It was subse- 
quently purchased by the Methodist society, who have it now in possession. 
Should they hereafter evince an exclusive spirit in relation to its occupancy, 
their title may justly be called in question. 

" Thomas Potter died nearly forty years ago. His grave, at the east end of 
the meeting hou«e, was pointed out to me by one of the oldest inhabitants in 
the neighborhood. Owing to inattention and the sandy nature of the soil, it 
was long ago levelled with the adjacent ground. It was enclosed soon after Ins 
burial; but the fence was broken down sonic twenty years ago, and two posts 
and a rail, very much decayed, are all that remain. The oak of which Murray 
speaks (' Sketches, 7 vol. i. p. 336) no longer, exists. I have obtained permission 
to re-enclose the grave, and erect a tombstone to his memory — T. W. 



212 



LIFE OF REV. JOBN MURRAY, 



my own support, and health will be a concomitant ; while 
I will preach the glad tidings of salvation free as the 
light of heaven." The business thus arranged, I became 
reconciled to the will of the Almighty ; and I commenced, 
with tolerable composure, auother and very important 
stage of my various life. * 

* Through the kind efforts of Itev. Richard Eddy, of Franklin, Mass., we are 
enabled to state that the date of Murray's lirst sermon in the Potter Church, and 
therefore in America, was Sunday, September 30, 1770. — G. L. D. 



CHAPTER VI. 



RECORD CONTINUED FROM THE SEPTEMBER OF 1770 TO THE 
WINTER OF 1774. 

" Armed with the sword of Jesse's youthful son, 
Engaged with ardor in the freedom won 
By Christ, the anointed God of earth and heaven, 
Dare, nobly, Murray, tell the boon that's given." 

Motto by a Friend, 

Behold me now entering upon a new stage of the 
journey of life, a professed preacher of the gospel. Of 
my inability for an undertaking so vast, I retained a con- 
tinued and depressing sense. But I determined to be as 
consistent and as useful as possible. I would be an 
assistant to my new friend in his agricultural and fishing 
employments ; and, upon every returning Sunday, I would 
preach to him the truth as it is in Jesus. I had not the 
most remote idea of ever preaching anywhere but in the 
house which he had built ; and thus I should questionless 
be indulged with the retirement which had been the prime 
object of my voyage. Thus eonsolatoiy were my reflec- 
tions upon my passage to New York, — at which- place I 
arrived about noon upon the ensuing day. I inquired for 
the captain, delivered up my charge, took my baggage 
from the brig " Hand-in-hand," and secured a lodging 
until I could obtain a passage back to the hospitable man- 
sion I had left. But the day had not closed in before a 
number of persons visited me, earnestly soliciting me to 

213 



214 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



speak to them of the things of the kingdom. I was im- 
measurably astonished ; totally a stranger in the city I 
could scarcely believe I was not in a dream. The boat- 
men, however, having given an account of me on their 
arrival, the intelligence was wafted from one end of the 
city unto the other. And the people, being anxious to 
hear something new, and from a new preacher, became 
extremely importunate. I could not deny that I had 
preached ; but I gave the solicitors to understand that I 
had absolutely engaged to return by the first opportunity, 
and that, of course, I was not at liberty to comply with 
their request. They promised they would insure me a 
speedy and eligible conveyance, if I would consent to give 
them a discourse in the Baptist meeting-house ; and it be- 
came impossible to resist their persuasions. The house 
was thronged, and the hearers so well satisfied, as to 
solicit most earnestly my continuance among them. But 
this I was not disposed to do. This I could not do. My 
word, my honor, was engaged to my first American friend ; 
and, when duty is seconded by inclination, perseverance 
becomes a matter of course. Upwards of a week elapsed 
before the earnestly sought-for passage presented, during 
which period I frequently preached, and to crowded 
houses. I was gratified by the marked attention of many 
characters. Novelty is rarely destitute of attraction. 
Even the minister extended to me the hand of apparent 
friendship, which I accounted for upon a supposition that 
he was ignorant of my testimony. I made use of the 
same Scriptures which he made use of ; and he was not 
apprised that I yielded them unqualified credence. I had 
no doubt that so soon as he should be informed that I 
believed what I delivered, he would condemn as much as 



LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 



215 



he now appeared to approve. Yet some few there were, 
firm, unchanging friends, whose attachment to me and my 
testimony has to this moment continued unbroken. So 
soon as an opportunity to return presented, I very cheer- 
fully embraced it ; and I felt my heart bound with pleas- 
ure at the thought of that meeting which a few da}-s be- 
fore I would have died to avoid. The charming retreat, 
in the gift of my friend, was, in my estimation, highly 
preferable to New York, and all which it could bestow ; 
and I longed most earnestly to quit the one and to return 
to the other. A number of friends accompanied me to the 
vessel, and we parted with expressions of regret. A 
single day produced me again in the abode of genuine, 
Christian friendship, to which I was welcomed with every 
demonstration of heart-felt joy. 

Here, then, I considered I had found a permanent home ; 
that a final period was at length put to wanderings ; 
and, after all m} r apprehensive dread, from being drawn 
into the public character, now that I had a prospect of 
sustaining this public character in so private a manner, I 
was not only reconciled, but tranquillized and happy. I had 
leisure to retrospect my past life, and I was filled with aston- 
ishment when I beheld all the various paths which I had 
trod, ultimately leading me to a uniform contemplation of 
redeeming love ; nor could I forbear exclaiming, " Great and 
marvellous are thy works, Lord God Almight} 7 ! Just and 
true are thy ways, O thou King of saints I " 

The winter now approached, and with hasty strides ; my 
worth}' friend was diligently gathering in the fruits of the 
earth. I was disposed to aid him, to the utmost of my 
abilities. He could not bear the thought of my laboring in 
the field. "Why need you? Have you not enough to 



216 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MVRRAY. 



engage your attention, in the business on which you are 
sent?" — " Believe me, my friend, my employment in your 
field will not interrupt my reflections. I can study better 
in the field than in my chamber. It requires but little 
study to deliver simple, plain, gospel truth ; to pervert this 
truth requires a vast deal of worldly wisdom. Let me, my 
dear sir, do as I please. I have fixed upon a plan, with 
which you shall be acquainted, when the labors of the day 
are closed." In the evening, when the cheerful fire blazed 
upon the hearth, and we were seated in the well-lighted 
parlor, " Come," said the good man, " now for your 
plan." — "I think, my dear sir," said I, " I am at length 
convinced that God in his providence has thought proper 
to appoint me, however unworthy, to the ministry of the 
New Testament ; and while persuaded that our common 
Father has committed a dispensation of the gospel to me, 
and that a woe is pronounced against me if I preach it not, 
it will be impossible I should remain silent ; but knowing, 
as I do, something of the nature of man, and of the situa- 
tion of preachers in general, I am for nryself determined 
not to make a gain of godliness ; I will make no provision 
for myself. I have abundance of clothing, and as to food 
I will eat of whatever is set before me, asking no questions 
either for the sake of conscience or appetite ; and for my 
drink, nothing is so salutary for me as cold water. I am 
persuaded I shall not live long in this world ; at least I 
hope I shall not. I am alone in the world. I shall 
want but little here, ' nor want that little long.' I 
reject then, with my whole soul, I reject, the liberal 
offer you so recently made me, of a fixed stipend. 
I will have no salary, I will have no collections, I will 
preach the gospel freel}^. I will work in your fields, I 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



217 



will eat at your table, I will slake rny thirst at the limpid 
•stream which furnishes your family ; but you shall make no 
change in the order of your house on my account. I will 
associate with your associates. I expect to meet them at 
the table of ury great Lord and Master in mansions beyond 
the grave ; and shall I hesitate to meet them upon equal 
terms in this lower world ? I am pleased with your situa- 
tion ; with your house of worship ; with 3-our neighbors ; 
with everything I am pleased. And if that God who 
brought me hither will graciously vouchsafe to indulge me 
with the privilege of tarrying here until I am liberated 
from this body of sin and death, I shall be still better 
pleased." 

The good old man could no longer suppress his feelings. 
He arose from his seat, caught me in his arms, essayed to 
speak, paused, and at length exclaimed, " O my God, is it 
possible? Wiry, such I have thought ministers of Jesus 
Christ ought to be." — " But, my friend," I replied, " every 
minister of Jesus Christ cannot live as I can. I have no 
family, no home, no want. If I had a family, I should be 
worse than an infidel not to make provisions for my house- 
hold ; but God, by separating me from m} T beloved compan- 
ion and my cherub boy, has enabled me to preach the 
gospel freely." I never saw any man so delighted, and 
especially with my determination to continue with him. 
Dear, kind-hearted man ! both he and I then believed that 
death only could separate us. In a place so remote from 
the world, I imagined I should enjoy, uninterruptedly, every 
wish of my heart ; and again and again I felicitated nrysclf in 
the prospect of finishing my weary life in this sweet, this 
calm retreat, unincumbered by care, conferring as well as 
receiving benefits, nobly independent, possessing all which 



218 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



the treacherous world could now bestow. Thus I went on, 
— pleased and pleasing. I had leisure for converse with 
myself, with my Bible, and my God. The letters of my 
Eliza were a source of mournfully pensive consolation, — 
they were multiplied, — and I had carefully preserved them. 
Many a time have I shed over them the private, the mid- 
night tear ; and reading them thus late, when I had fallen 
into a sweet slumber, I have met the lovely author in my 
dreams, and our meeting has been replete with consolation, 
with such high intercourse as can only be realized in 
heaven. Our Sundays were indeed blessed holy days ; 
people began to throng from all quarters on horseback, — 
some from the distance of twenty miles. I was at first 
pleased with this ; so was my patron ; but multiplied invi- 
tations to visit other places saddened our spirits. I 
dreaded the thought of departing from home, and, in the 
fulness of my heart, I determined I would never accede to 
any request, which should bear me from a seclusion* so 
completely commensurate with my wishes. Alas ! alas ! 
how little do we know of ourselves or our destination ! So- 
licitations, earnest solicitations, poured in from the Jerse3 T s, 
from Philadelphia, and from New York ; and it became 
impossible to withstand their repeated and imposing 
energy. 

The first visit I made was to a village about eight miles 
from my late-found home. My patron accompanied me, 
and we were joyfulty received by a serious and respectable 
family, who embraced with devout hearts the truth as it is 

* Thomas Totter died not far from the year 1790. The feelings of Mr. Murray, 
in visiting this retreat after the death of that highly benevolent individual, and 
his account of the character of his friend, may be found in brackets in the 
seventh chapter of this work.— T. W. 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



219 



in Jesus ; and who were consequently saved from all those 
torturing fears that had previously harrowed up their 
spirits, in the dread expectation of those everlasting burn- 
ings which they believed awaited themselves and their 
offspring. 

In this village I one morning entered a house and beheld 
a fond mother weeping over an infant, who lay sweetty 
sleeping in her arms. Sympathy for the sorrowing mother 
moistened my eye ; and, supposing that her tears flowed 
from some domestic distress, or pecuniary embarrassment, 
I endeavored to console her by observing that the world 
was very wide, and that God was an all-sufficient Father. 
" Alas ! sir," she replied, " I never, in the whole course 
of my life, experienced a moment's anxiet}^ from the dread 
of my children or myself suffering the want either of food 
or raiment. No, sir, my fears are that the} r will be 
sufferers, through the wasteless ages of eternity, in that state 
of torment from whence there is no reprieve ; and that they 
will continually execrate their parents as the wretched 
instruments of bringing them into being. I have eight 
children, sir ; and can I be so arrogant as to believe that 
all these children are elected to everlasting life? " — u But, 
my dear lady, you have reason to believe that they will be 
saved, whether they be elected or not, because Christ Jesus 
is the Saviour of all men." This did not satisfy her. I 
took up the Bible, which lay upon her desk, and the first 
Scripture which met my view was the one hundred and 
twent3 T -seventh Psalm. I glanced my eye upon the third 
verse of that psalm : " Lo, children are the heritage of the 
Lord, and the fruit of the womb is his reward." I did not 
recollect this passage ; it was the first time it had met my 
particular observation ; but it has ever since been right 



220 



LIFE OF IlEV. JOHN MURRAY. 



precious to my soul. I merely opened the Bible in the 
expectation of finding something- to soothe a sorrowing 
mother, and this most pertinent passage broke upon me 
with unequalled splendor. I was myself astonished, and, 
presenting the sacred passage, I remarked, " There, 
madam, God has sent you, for your consolation, this divine 
€liscover}\ You have been unhappy because you did not 
know that your children were God's children, and that he 
loved them as well, yea, infinitely better, than you can 
pretend to love them. Naj T , look at the passage ; you see 
your children are the heritage of God, they are his reward ; 
will he give his heritage to his adversary? or will he 
suffer him to seize any part thereof, if he has sufficient 
power to prevent it ? " Again and again the fond mother 
perused the passage ; gradually her countenance changed, 
and the clouds dispersed ; a flood of tears burst from her 
eyes. She brightened up, and, pressing her babe to her 
maternal bosom, rapturously exclaimed, " Blessed, blessed 
God, they are not mine ; they are thine, O Almighty 
Father ; and thou wilt not be regardless of thine own ! " I 
never saw more joy in consequence of believing than I 
then beheld. Ten years afterwards I again saw this parent, 
and asked her what she thought of her children. "Blessed 
be God ! *' said she, " they are God's children ; and I have 
never had an unhappy moment respecting their future 
state, since my Redeemer has been graciously pleased to 
make known unto me his soul-satisfying truth. No, sir, 
my spirit is not now a sorrowing spirit." 

Again a letter w T as handed me froru New York, earnestly 
entreating me to pay them a visit. Arrangements were 
made for my passage in the vessel by which I received 
the solicitation. To a summons so pressing I dared not 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



221 



turn a deaf ear. In fact, a revolution had taken place in 
my mind. It appeared to me that I was highly repre- 
hensible in thus withdrawing m} T self from the tour of duty 
which seemed appointed for me ; and I determined never 
to seek directly or indirectly for an open door, and never 
again refuse entering any door which Providence should 
open. It is true, I never wished to receive an invitation ; 
but I was aware that the direction of me and my move- 
ments were in the hands of infinite Wisdom ; and promising 
my benevolent host that I would return as soon as possible, 
I departed for New York. My reception surpassed my 
expectations, and even my wishes. Many persons anxious 
to detain me in their city went so far as to hand about a 
subscription-paper, for the purpose of building for me 
a house of public worship. It was completely rilled in one 
day, when application was made to me to abide with them 
continually. I urged my absolute promise given, and my 
inclination prompting my return to Good Luck, the name 
of the place where my friend Potter dwelt. They were 
astonished at my determination to reside in such a place, 
when the city of New York was opening its arms to re- 
ceive me. But on my repeating the circumstances attend- 
ant upon my arrival there, they seemed disposed to 
acquiesce, and to acknowledge the good hand of God out- 
stretched for my direction. The Baptist meeting-house 
was again open to me, and the congregations were very 
large ; my friends multiplied very fast, and I became 
gradual^ attached to this city. Yet I ardently desired to 
return to the home of my choice ; and, after spending a few 
weeks in New York, I once more hailed my providential 
residence ; numbers of warm-hearted friends accompany- 
ing me as before, even to the vessel's side, where they 



222 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



offered up to Heaven their most fervent prayers in my be- 
half. My heart was greatly affected. I was warmly at- 
tached to many in New York. The family of Colonel 
Darke, and many others now no more, were very dear 
to me. 

I reached home in good healthy and was received with 
great joy ; even the servants seemed to participate the 
benevolence of their master. In fact, having nothing in 
the habitation of my friend to render me uneasy, my mind 
became more tranquil than it had been for many }^ears ; 
and, at peace in my own breast, I consequently contributed 
to the happiness of all around me. Thus I continued in 
undisturbed repose, until a Baptist minister from New 
Jerse} T , believing my sentiments precisely in unison with 
his own, conceived a strong affection for me. He solicited 
me to become a member of his church, that I might obtain 
a license from their association. Of course I declined his- 
friendly offers ; for I well knew, when he discovered I really 
believed the gospel which I preached, uniting with his- 
brethren, he would be as anxious to exclude me from his- 
synagogue as he now was to receive nre. He pressed me 
however, to visit him, which I did, accompanied by my 
patron, who, to his great mortification, was necessitated 
to leave me there. In this gentleman's pulpit I preached. 
I lodged in his house ; and received from him every mark 
of attention, until my unbending refusal of all collections, 
and the partiality of his friends, visibly diminished his 
regard. I had calculated upon this change, and it did not 
therefore astonish me. He was, however, a warm-hearted 
man, and as sincere as men in general are. In this place 
I was introduced to many worthy characters, who, as a part 
of the election, obtained a knowledge of the truth as it is 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



223 



in Jesus. Among the rest was a Justice Pangbrun, a vener- 
able old gentleman who had for many years been con- 
sidered by his brethren as an oracle. This gentleman 
heard me, and discovered that my testimony was not in 
unison with the teaching to which he had listened. He 
became sedulously intent upon detecting my errors, and 
he soon discovered I was wrong, and as soon kindly en- 
deavored to set me right. But, as there was no other way 
of effectuating his wishes but by the word of God, — for 
I refused all other authorit}^, — he was soon convinced, 
upon searching the sacred writings for proofs of my heresy, 
that it was he himself who had wandered from that precious 
truth once delivered to the saints. Without hesitation he 
renounced his former views, and continued ever after an 
able and zealous advocate for the truth preached by Abra- 
ham. It was now noised abroad that I was an erroneous 
teacher. The clergyman who Avas so warmly attached to 
me, while he believed me a Calvinistic Baptist, now com- 
menced a most inveterate adversary ; and his opposition 
published more extensively my name and peculiar tenets. 
Curiosity was excited, and I became the object of general 
inquiry. It is a melancholy truth that esteem and con- 
sequent friendship are not generally so operative upon the 
human mind as rancor and enmity. My experience is in 
unison with this observation. I hastened back to my 
calm retreat. Alas ! it was no longer my peaceful home, — 
for, although no change had taken place in the house of 
my friend, yet the influence of my clerical enemy pursued 
me. Opposition, however, begat opposition ; and while I. 
was hated by the man3 r , I was loved and caressed hy the 
few. Solicitations to preach were multiplied from every 
quarter, and although there was no abatement in the 



226 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



pulpit. The intelligence ran through the city, that I was 
to preach in the Baptist meeting-house, and numbers nocked 
to hear. I came ; I entered the parlor of the reverend 
gentleman. Many of the members of his church were 
present, and a young candidate for the ministry. The gen- 
tleman who hrvited me, and who repeated his invitation on 
parting with me, arose, and, throwing upon me a most 
indignant glance, took the young gentleman by the hand 
and led him into the meeting-house, which was adjoining to 
his dwelling, leaving me standing in his parlor. I now 
perceived why he had insisted upon my coming to preach 
for him. But it was not wonderful. I had spoken con- 
temptibly of his Christ, and he took rank among my invet- 
erate foes. Yet I had among his connections a few friends, 
who, indignant at the treatment I had received, redoubled 
their caresses. There was at this time a small company 
who assembled at a place known by the name of Bachelor's 
Hall. They were unacquainted with the truth I delivered ; 
yet, willing to hear for themselves, they invited me to 
preach for them. Halting between two opinions, they 
solicited aid from a minister of another persuasion ; and 
they requested me to hear him ; to which I readily con- 
sented. The preacher selected his text. " Behold the 
Lamb of God, who taketh away the sin of the world." He 
commenced his comment : " My friends, I shall undertake 
to prove, that Jesus never did, nor never will, take away 
the sin of the world." I was astonished, and the persons 
asking my attendance were abashed. The preacher added, 
"It is impossible Christ can have taken away the sin of 
the world, for then all the world must be saved." This was 
unquestionable. I was exceedingly gratified, and the more, 
as this sermon, intended for my confusion, did much to 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



227 



establish that truth, of which, by the grace of God, I was 
a promulgator. 

The combined efforts of the clergy in Philadelphia barred 
against me the door of every house of public worship in 
the city. Bachelor's Hall was in Kensington. But at 
Bachelor's Hall the people attended, and a few were enabled 
to believe the good word of their God. There was in the 
city a minister of the Seventh-day Baptist persuasion. For 
a season he appeared attached to me, but soon became very 
virulent in his opposition. He told me he passed on foot 
nine miles, upon the return of every Saturday, to preach. 
I asked him how many his congregation contained. " About 
a hundred." — "How many of this huudred do you sup- 
pose are elected to everlasting life?" — " I cannot tell." — 
" Do you believe fifty are elected? " — " Oh, no, nor twen- 
ty." — " Ten perhaps ? " — "There may be ten." — " Do you 
think the non-elect can take any step to extricate themselves 
from the tremendous situation in which the decrees of 
Heaven have placed them?" — "Oh, no, they might as 
well attempt to pull the stars from the firmament of heaven." 
— " And do you think your preaching can assist them? " — - 
" Certainly not. Every sermon they hear will sink them 
deeper and deeper in damnation.": — "And so, then, you 
walk nine miles every Saturday to sink ninety persons out 
of a hundred deeper and deeper in never-ending misery ! " 

Eeports, injurious to my peace, were now very generally 
circulated ; and although I expected all manner of evil 
would be said of me falsely, for His sake, whose servant I 
was, yet did the shafts of slander possess a deadly power 
by which I was sorely wounded. Had the poisoned weapon 
been aimed by characters wicked in* the common accepta- 
tion of the word, it would have fallen harmless. Nay, the 



228 



LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY, 



fire of their indignation would have acted as a purifier of 
my name ; but reports, originating from those who were 
deemed holy and reverend — alas ! their bite was mortal. 
Again I sighed for retirement ; again I hastened to the 
bosom of my patron, and again my reception was most cor- 
dial. Yet, although so much evil was said of me, many, 
glancing at the source, made candid deductions, and were 
careful to proportion their acts of kindness to the magni- 
tude of my wrongs. Invitations met me upon the road, 
and, wafted upon the wings of fame, I could enter no town 
or village which my name had not reached, in which I did 
not receive good and evil treatment. The clergy and their 
connections were generally inveterate enemies ; while those 
who had will and power to act for themselves, and chanced 
to be favorably impressed, were very warm in their attach- 
ments. Thus my friends were very cordial, and my enemies 
very malignant ; and as my enemies were generally at a 
distance, and my friends at my elbow, but for officious 
individuals who brought me intelligence of all the}' heard, 
I might have gone on my way with abundant satisfaction. 
At Brunswick, which I had been earnestly solicited to visit, 
I was received into a most worthy family. The Rev. Mr. 
Dunham was of the Seventh-da}' Baptist persuasion ; a 
man of real integrit} r , who, although he could not see as I 
saw, threw open the doors of his meeting-house, conducted 
me into his pulpit, and discharged toward me, in every par- 
ticular, the duty of a Christian. His neighbor, a clergy- 
man, who was a First-day Baptist, exhibited a complete 
contrast to Mr. Dunham. He invited me, it is true, to his 
house ; asked me to lodge there. We conversed together, 
prayed together ; he appeared very kind and much pleased, 
and I believed him my confirmed friend, until, leaving 




LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



229 



Brunswick, I called upon some, whose deportment to me 
was the reverse of what it had been. I demanded a reason ; 

when they frankly informed me, that the Rev. Mr. had 

made such representations as had destroyed all the pleasure 
they had been accustomed to derive from my presence. 
This affected me beyond expression, a stranger as I was ; 
and suffering in the dread of what I had to expect, I turned 
from the door of those deceived persons without uttering a 
word. I quitted their habitations forever. Invidious re- 
marks were made upon my silence ; but of these I was 
careless. On other occasions I might have been affected, 
but treacheiy from a man who had entertained me so hos- 
pitably, and who stood so high in the ranks of piety, 
shocked me beyond the power of utterance. Upon the 
afternoon of this day on which I had been so deeply hurt, I 
was engaged to deliver my peaceful message in the pulpit 
of Mr. Dunham, in the vicinity of this perfidious man. 
Some time had elapsed since I had seen him, and I then 
met him upon the road. lie advanced toward me with an 
extended hand, and a countenance expressive of Christian 
affection. "You are a great stranger, sir?" — "Yes, sir, 
I am a stranger and sojourner in every place, as all m}' 
fathers were before me." — "Well, how have you been 
since I saw you? " — u Thanks be to God, I have been pre- 
served and owned and blessed, notwithstanding the slanders 
of the adversary and his agents." He saw he was detected, 
and he determined immediately to drop the mask. 44 TVell, 
I will do all in nry power to obstruct your progress 
in every place." — " Had you, sir, made this declaration at 
an earlier period, I should at least have believed 3^011 an 
honest man. But to pass } T ourself upon me as my friend, 
while you were aiming at me a vital stab ! O sir, I am 



230 



LIFE OF REV. JORN MURRAY. 



astonished at you." — " And I am more astonished at you* 
Do you not tremble when you think that God must have a 
quarrel with you? and that all his ministers in America 
hate you? " — " Sir, I do not believe my Creator is a quar- 
relsome Being, neither do I credit the information that all 
God's ministers hate me. A minister of God is incapable 
of hating any human being." — "But are you not con- 
founded when you consider that you must be right and we 
wrong, or you wrong and all God's ministers right? 
Surely, it is more probable we should be all right and you 
wrong, than you right and we all wrong/' — -"I have no 
apprehensions upon this head. Some one might have 
questioned in the days of Elijah, when he was opposed by 
eight hundred and fifty prophets, 6 Do you not tremble 
to see all these holy and reverend priests on one side, and 
you alone on the other? Either they must be wrong and 
you right, or you wrong and they right.' So in Jerusalem 
our divine Master might have been asked, 4 Are 3-011 not 
appalled at beholding all the ministers of God, all the rulers 
of the people, in opposition? Either Ihey must be wrong 
and you right, or 3-011 wrong and they right; and which, 
pray, is the most probable ? ' And the people might have 
been asked, ' Have aii3 T of our rulers believed on him ? He 
is a devil and mad, why hear ye him?'" — "I am aston- 
ished at 3'our daring blasphemy in comparing 3'ourself 
either to Elijah or Christ." — " Wli3 T , was not Elijah a man 
of like passions with us? And are we not taught to put on 
the Lord Jesus Christ? Who is it that asks, ' If the3 r have 
called the Master of the house Beelzebub, what ought 
the servants of his household to expect?' Elijah is a mem- 
ber in the same body with me ; but the Redeemer is still 
nearer. He is my head, the head of eveiy man. He in- 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



231 



dulges me with the privilege of denying myself, my sinful 
self, and he allows me to acknowledge no other than his 
blessed self; that, thus standing in his name, I may stand 
in the presence of the Father, the Divinity, with exceeding 
j'03^ ; that, asking in the name of his immaculate humanity, 
I may be sure to receive, that my joy may be full. Nor 
can all that you, or any one else, can sa\ r , be able to shake 
me from this my stronghold." — " Ay, perhaps you may be 
mistaken; } r ou may be deceived." — " If I am deceived, 
I am deceived ; but I will venture." — " You know this is 
not the privilege of all ; and therefore it may not be 
3^ours." — " I do not know that this is not the privilege of 
all, but, if it be of any, it is of the believer ; and, as I 
believe, it must be mine. ' They shall,' said my divine 
Master, ' say all manner of evil of you falsely* You, sir, 
have been in Brunswick, fulfilling this Scripture ; and I 
rejoice that I have made the discovery. You can never 
deceive me again ; but as I am not naturally suspicious, 
others may obtain a lease of nry good opinion, from which 
they will never, but upon the strongest conviction, be 
ejected." I left this good man beyond measure enraged, 
and, no doubt, believing he should really render God ser- 
vice by doing me the most essential injury. I immediately 
repaired to the pulpit of my friend Dunham, where, preach- 
ing peace, I recovered my lost serenity. And it gladdened 
my heart to believe that the inveterate enemy, with whom I 
had parted upon the road, was included in the redemption 
it was nry business to proclaim. 

But now again my heart failed me ; again I sickened 
at the prospect before me, and my whole soul revolting 
from a continuance in public life, I once more fled to my 
beloved, my sequestered home. I sighed ardently for my 



232 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



emancipation. Of that God, who was in Christ reconcil- 
ing the world unto himself, I entertained not the smallest 
dread. But my coward spirit trembled before a combination 
of religious characters, headed by the clergy, and armed for 
my destruction. Their zeal was manifested by their in- 
dustriously propagating a variety of evil reports. I would 
detail them, were they not so numerous. And, although 
all manner of evil had not } T et been said of me, enough was 
said to implant a dread of some overwhelming termination. 
Thus my aversion to the path into which I had been 
pressed became more imposing. I was ready to say, Lord, 
send by whom thou wilt send, and in mercy vouchsafe to 
grant me my final exit from those surrounding scenes which 
embosom the retirement of my friend. 

Often have I wept, as I traversed the woods and groves 
of my patron, at the thought that I could be indulged with 
the felicity of passing the remainder of my days amid those 
sylvan scenes ; especially as it was the wish of the liberal 
master that I should so do. I became apprehensive, that 
my trials in this New World would surpass those which I 
encountered in the Old. These agonizing anticipations 
prostrated me before the throne of the Almighty, imploring 
his protection ; and from this high communication with my 
Father, God, my griefs have been assuaged and my wounded 
spirit healed. Urged by a strong sense of duty, I again visited 
Upper Freehold, to which place I had been repeatedly sum- 
moned. My acquaintance there was large and respectable ; 
but it was the residence of a high-priest who treated me 
roughly. I was asked to breakfast at the house of one of 
his congregation, without the most remote hint that I was 
to meet this great man ; but I was hardl}' seated, when he 
was observed making his approaches ; and, from some ex- 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



233 



pressions of surprise, I was induced to believe he was to- 
tally unexpected. I was astonished to see so many assem- 
bled ; but supposed that curiosity to see the strange 
preacher of so strange a doctrine had drawn them together. 
I was, however, afterwards assured that the plan had been 
previously concerted. Mr. Tennant entered. We were in- 
troduced to each other. He drew a chair into the midst of 
the circle, and, commanding into his countenance as much 
stern severity as he could collect, he commenced his studied 
operations. " I want to know, sir, b} r what authority you 
presume to preach in this place."- — "Pray, sir, by what 
authority do you thus presume to question me?"— "I am, 
sir, placed here, b}^ Almight}^ God, to look after the affairs of 
his church and people ; and I have a right to insist on know- 
ing who and what you are." — " Well, sir, if you be placed 
here as the vicegerent of Heaven, } t ou should take care how 
you conduct ; you have a great charge, and 3 T our responsi- 
bilit} r is proportioned to its magnitude. But, sir, I am not as- 
suming ; I have no design upon 3^0111* people. I am like a per- 
son in the time of harvest, who steps into the field, and binds 
up some sheaves, making no demand upon the proprietor of 
the grounds. I have never attempted to scatter jom sheep ; I 
have not even plucked a lock of their wool. I do not wish to 
govern, I only aim at being a help." — u I do not like you a bit 
the better for all this stuff. I insist on knowing whether you 
came in at the door." — "I wish to know, sir, what door you 
mean." — "I mean the door of the church; all who come 
not in at that door are thieves and robbers." — " But, sir, I 
would know what church } t ou mean. The Pope declares 
there is no true church save the one of which he is the head. 
The Episcopal bishop affirms there is no true church but that 
of which the king is the head. Do you, sir, mean either of 



234 



LIFE OF REV. JOnX MURRAY. 



these ?" — " No, sir, I mean the true church. Did you come 
in at that door? " " If, sir, you do not tell me what you 
mean by the true church, how can I answer you respecting 
the door?" — " Sir, I will hare no evasions. Did you, or 
did you not, come in at the door ? " — - " Jesus Christ sa} T s, ' I 
am the door ; "by me, if any man enter, he shall be saved,' 
Do you mean this door, sir? " — " No, sir, I mean the door 
of the church," — " Is not Jesus Christ the door of the 
church, sir ? " — " No, sir," — " Well, sir, although there be 
many preachers who have not entered at this door, you will 
not, I trust, esteem a preacher the less for having the privi- 
lege to go in and out at this door." — " Sir, I have nothing 
to do with this. I wish to know whether you have church 
authority for preaching ; that is, whether } T ou came properly 
in at the door." — " Sir, I have the same authorit3 T for preach- 
ing, which the apostle Paul had ; he received his mission by 
the will of God, — so have I." — " A}~, sir, give us the same 
miracles that Paul wrought, and we will believe you," — "If 
the power of working miracles were necessary to prove a 
right to preach the gospel, perhaps you, sir, would be also 
at a loss to prove 3 T our own right, either to preach, or thus 
to question a fellow-creature. " — " Sir, jow are a deceitful, 
hypocritical man. If you had come properly in at the door I 
should have received you ; but you are an impostor, — I pro- 
nounce 3 t ou an impostor." — " That is more than you know, 
sir, and, I add, more than I know myself ; but, if we cannot 
agree about the church and the door, blessed be God ! we 
can agree in one fundamental point : while we were yet sin- 
ners, Christ Jesus died for us, and while we were yet enemies, 
we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son." The 
old gentleman started from his seat, and, running round the 
apartment, exclaimed, in a loud and thundering voice, to 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



235 



those who were without, " Come in, and hear gibberish, 
gibberish, gibberish ! " I was astonished, and when he had 
so far spent his rage as to remain for one moment silent, 
I looked full in his face, and asked, a Pray, sir, what lan- 
guage do you make use of ? Is it possible that you, a 
clergyman, highly distinguished, the head of the Presbytery, 
and now in the evening of life, should be so little ac- 
quainted with the Scriptures as to call the language of 
revelation gibberish ? " — u You know nothing about revela- 
tion ; there never was an individual of the human race, that 
ever had any interest in Christ, or in God, until they had 
repentance and faith." — " Pardon me, sir ; you do not be- 
lieve this yourself."—- " I say, I do." — " Excuse me, sir ; you 
certainly do not." — " Give me leave to tell you, you have a 
great deal of impudence thus to talk to me." — " Nay, sir, I 
do not wish to offend. I wish } t ou to reconsider your asser- 
tion. I am confident you do not believe it ; and I am con- 
fident you will have the goodness to own it before I 
quit this apartment." — " Let me tell you, young man, you 
have the greatest stock of assurance I have ever met with in 
any young person. I tell you again, there never was an indi- 
vidual of the human race, who left this world without faith 
and repentance, who ever had any interest in Christ, or ever 
tasted happiness." — " Not one ? " — " No, sir, not one." — ■ 
" O sir, I am very sorry 3'ou compel me to make 3 T ou retract 
this affirmation." Turning to the company, he required them 
to say whether the} r did not think my insolence surpassed 
credibility. The company were silent, and, after a pause, I 
said, " I know, sir, if } T ou believe Calvinistic principles, you 
believe some infants may be eternally lost ; but no Calvinist 
denies that some infants are interested in Christ, and eter- 
nally blessed, although they passed out of time without 



236 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



repentance or faith." — " Sir, I never thought of infants." -~> 
" So I imagined ; and it was therefore, sir, I took the lib- 
erty to say, you did not believe what } t ou advanced." — " But 
I believe it with respect to all besides infants." — " No,, sir, 
pardon me, you do not." 

Again he was exceeding angr} T , until I mentioned idiots. 
" I did not think of idiots." — "I believe you did not ; but, 
my good sir, would it not be as well, if you were always to 
think before you speak? " — " Again I say, I am astonished 
at 3 T our impudence. I could not have believed a young man 
like you could have had so much impudence." — "I dare say, 
sir, you are disappointed. You expected to have met a 
timid, poor, destitute stranger, who would have been con* 
founded by noise, and such cogent arguments, as gibberish, 
gibberish, repeatedly vociferated ; you expected I should 
not have dared to utter a syllable ; you have been pleased to 
treat me very roughly ; you know not but you have been 
pouring vinegar into wounds already sore ; you have, sir, 
been vexing the stranger, and without any provocation on 
my part." — " A}^, ay, this is the language of all impostors." 

Thus ended my morning repast. I was very much hurt ; 
yet I reaped advantage from this new trial. Returning to 
my lodgings, I experienced the most painful sensations ; 
but the rebuff I had received operated as usual. It drew 
me nearer to my God, and, pouring out my heart in secret 
before the Father of my spirit, I obtained what the favor 
of the clergy could never give, — consolation and peace in 
believing. 

My conduct at this breakfasting conference was repre- 
sented in such a point of view as increased the number of 
my friends ; and clerical gentlemen in this place and its 
environs forbore direct attacks ; but the tongue of the 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



237 



private slanderer was busily employed. A gentleman of 

C , the Rev. Mr. S , repeatedly attended my public 

labors ; addressed me after preaching, continued some time 
in conversation with me, and appointed a day on which he 
pressed me to dine with him. I accepted his politeness 

with gratitude, and was punctual to the time. Mr. S 

received me with manifest satisfaction ; we were alone, and 

we passed many hours most pleasantly. Mr. S seemed 

solicitous that I should view him neither as a sceptic nor a 
caviller, but simply an inquirer after truth. He asked me 
many questions, which I answered as clearly as I was 
able ; and he appeared sometimes dissatisfied, sometimes 
silenced. Upon the whole, his deportment was gentlemanly, 
and I could not forbear regarding him as a sensible, illu- 
mined Christian. On my departure, he urged me to con- 
sider his house my home whenever I visited C ; waited 

on me while I mounted my horse, pressed my hand, and, 
with much apparent devotion, supplicated the blessing of 
Heaven upon me. On recurring to my journal, I find my 
notice of this interview concluded as follows : " Thus far 
am I brought on my way rejoicing ; the Lord is my sun 
and shield ; blessed be the name of my God ! " Yet no 

sooner was I out of view, than this same Mr. S ordered 

his horse, and, posting to every respectable family in his 
parish, informed them that with all my cunning, he had 
outwitted me ; that he had asked me to dine, and, by flattery 
and caresses, had throivn me off my guard, and obtained a 
complete knowledge of my principles. " Well, dear sir, 
and what are his principles?" — "Oh! truly shocking! 
horrid ! most horrid ! I dare not relate them ; you shall 
not be contaminated by the recital ; it would be dangerous 
in the extreme.' , Nor was this enough. Being a member 



238 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



of the Presbyter}^, he wrote a circular letter, addressing 
every leading associate, which effectually steeled all hearts, 
and, so far as his influence extended, barred eve^ door 
against me. Calumnies of various descriptions were dis- 
seminated ; rancor became uncommonly prolific ; astonishing 
efforts were made to destroy my reputation ; but God was 
with me, and his spirit was my never-failing support. In 
the midst of these fiery trials, I passed on ; succeeding 
weeks and months rolled away, while my days were appro- 
priated to my beloved home, to different parts of the Jer- 
seys, Philadelphia, New York, and many of the intervening 
towns scattered between those cities. 

In the commencement of the autumn of 1773, I was 
strongly induced to journey as far as Newport, in Rhode 
Island ; and, having dropped a tear at parting with my 
faithful friend, I commended him to the care of Heaven, 
and began my new tour of duty. The chilly mornings and 
evenings of even the first autumnal month gave me to 
experience the want of an outside garment. I was, how- 
ever, determined not to solicit human aid ; this, I believed, 
would be taking the business out of the hand of my Mas- 
ter. If God had sent me, he would put it into the hearts 
of his people to supply me ; yet I did not calculate that this 
want would be supplied until I reached New York. I 
believed I had in that city a friend who would derive 
pleasure from administering to my necessities. But when 
I was preparing to leave Brunswick, a person entered the 
parlor, displayed a number of patterns, requested I would 
make a choice for a great-coat, and asked how long I should 
tarry in town. I told him I should leave town earl}' on the 
succeeding morning. " "Well, sir," he returned, " your 
coat shall be ready." I asked by whom he was sent. " Sir, 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



239 



I was ordered not to say by whom." — "It is very well; 
I know who sent you." — " Do 3 r ou, sir? " — " Yes, sir ; it 
was God, my Father ; who, having all hearts in his hand, 
has stimulated your employer." Early the following morn- 
ing the coat was brought home. I was deeply affected, 
and, laying my hand upon it, I said, " Henceforward thou 
shalt be my monitor ; whenever I feel my heart desponding, 
in silent but persuasive language thou shalt say, 4 Cast thy 
care upon God, for he careth for thee.' " It was not so 
much the suppty of this pressing want that pleased me, as 
the recognition of the immediate hand of paternal Deity, 
who thus vouchsafed to own and bless my mission. On 
my arrival in New York, I learned, to nry great astonish- 
ment, that the friend on whom my hopes of a winter garment 
had rested was become my enemy ! I was greatly pained. He 
was very dear to me ; but a religious slanderer had been at 
his ear, and had prejudiced him against me. I lost him 
forever. Alas ! alas, how many such losses have I sus- 
tained since I became a promulgator of the truth as it is 
in Jesus. 

Leaving New York, I postponed my journey to Newport, 
passed through East Jerse}', and stopped at Amboy, where 
I had many friends. Sitting one evening at tea with a 
lady, she complained that her maid had quitted her, having 
been seduced from her duty by a foot-soldier. This imme- 
diately reminded me of Mrs. Trinbath, the poor unhappy 
lady at whose house in Cork I had, in company with Mr. 
Whitefield and others, been so splendidly entertained. I 
related the mournful tale, when the lady assured me she 
knew the unhappy creature ; she had seen her in Amboy, 
and that she was now in New York in a most wretched 
situation. I immediately conceived a hope that, if I could 



240 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



obtain an interview with her, I might prevail upon her to 
return to her widowed mother, and to her children ; and, 
although her husband was no more, she might yet, in some 
measure, retrieve the past. Alas ! alas ! I did not calculate 
that I was thus making provision for the most serious 
calamity which, during m} T sojourn in this New World, had 
until then overtaken me. 

The following da} r , intent on my purpose, I took passage 
in the packet for New York, accompanied by the sergeant- 
major of the regiment to which the fellow belonged, with 
whom this deluded woman lived. I asked him if he knew 
such a person. Yes, he knew her, and she was in a very 
wretched condition. I sighed, from the inmost recesses of 
my soul, while I listened to his account of her manner of 
living. I begged to know if I could see her. Yes ; he 
could conduct me to her abode ; but on our arrival, passing 
over the common, near the gaol, to the residence of this 
poor creature, we chanced to meet her infamous seducer, 
who, not having heard of the death of Mr. Trinbath, imme- 
diately concluded I was that injured husband, come to 
reclaim my wretched wanderer. Under this impression he 
hastened home, and effectual^ secreted her before we 
reached the door. I was disappointed ; but I informed a 
poor creature in the house that I would call upon the 
ensuing day, at one o'clock, when I hoped I might obtain 
an interview. I was the next da}' punctual to the appoint- 
ment ; but, instead of the misguided woman, I received a 
letter, directed to Mr. Trinbath, entreating most earnestly 
that I would not attempt to see her ; that, after treating me 
as she had done, she never would see me more ; and that, 
if I persisted in pursuing her, she would leave the city, and, 
taking with her her miserable children, they would nil 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



241 



perish together ; for she would rather than meet my eye 
suffer a thousand deaths. I was beyond measure shocked 
at this letter. I saw the absolute necessity of seeing and 
convincing her of her error ; but how was this to be effect- 
uated? I could devise no plan. I told the old woman it 
was a most capital mistake ; that I was not the person she 
supposed. " Oh," said she, " } r ou need sa}^ nothing about 
that, sir ; everybody knows } r ou are her husband, and 
everybody pities you, poor gentleman, that you should 
have such a wife ; but she has had bad advisers, and I dare 
say if you can see her and forgive her (and everybody 
says that if you did not intend to do so, you would never 
have sought her), she will again be a very good woman." I 
was provoked beyond endurance ; but every appearance of 
irritation was imputed to my disappointment and conse- 
quent resentment. My soul was harrowed up by agonizing 
distress. Unable to convince the old woman, I returned to 
my lodgings. My friends perceived the anguish of my 
spirits, for which they were well able to account ; they, 
however, carefully avoided the subject. At last, not being 
able to control my emotions, I burst into tears. They 
were alarmed. "What is the matter?" I circumstantially 
related the whole stoiy, and dwelt upon my sufferings, 
consequent upon my inability to see Mrs. Trinbath, and 
convince her of her mistake. My friends appeared relieved, 
and proposed my writing to her, and leaving it at her lodg- 
ings. She will see it is not the handwriting of her husband. 
The propriety of this measure was obvious. I asked the 
gentleman if he would accompany me. "Most gladly." 
I wrote immediately, laboring to convince this unfortunate 
woman of her error, and assuring her that my friend, Mr. 

Trinbath, had been many years dead ; that if she would but 
16 



242 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



give me a meeting for a single moment, she would acknowl- 
edge she had nothing to fear from me. This letter was 
ineffectual ; she was positive it was all a deception, and 
that, with a view of deceiving her, I had employed some 
other pen. 

This story was a sweet morsel to my religious foes. It 
was painted in the most odious colors, and industriously 
exhibited. They declared the woman was unquestionably 
my wife ; and that, on account of the treatment she had 
received from her barbarous husband, she had preferred 
putting herself under the protection of a common soldier ; 
that she had attended church upon a lecture evening, and 
upon seeing me, her husband, in the pulpit, she had shrieked 
aloud and fainted. This and a thousand other falsehoods 
were circulating through the city. My humane friends at 
length interfered ; they solicited the commanding officer to 
oblige the fellow with whom the woman lived to produce 
her. She approached with dread apprehension. A large 
company was collected, spectators of the scene. She 
caught a glance, and exclaiming, in a tremulous accent, " It 
is — it is he," immediately fainted. Curiosity and human- 
ity combined to recover her ; she was led into the parlor. 
I appeared full before her, entreating her to take a view of 
my face. She did so, and no words can express her confu- 
sion. Her acknowledgments were repeated and copious. 
She did not recollect ever to have seen me before. I was 
most happy in the result of this untoward business, which 
had nearly annihilated my anxiety respecting her restora- 
tion to her connexions. Indeed, I was assured no entrea- 
ties would procure her return to Cork. So many had 
witnessed an eclaircisscment so honorable to me, that I 
fondly believed it would be attached to the narration ; but, 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



243 



alas ! there was not a thousandth part of the pains taken 
to publish the truth as had been taken to spread far and 
wide the slander. Here it was the still voice of friendship ; 
there it was slander with her thousand tougues. None but 
God can tell how much I have suffered from the various 
trials I have encountered. Again I mournfully acknowl- 
edged that my object in coming to America was not in any 
view obtained ; that my grand desideratum appeared 
further and further from my reach. Again I wished most 
ardently to be in England ; yea, in the \ery scenes from 
which I had escaped, if I might thus be delivered from the 
distracted situation in which I was involved ; and the more 
I contemplated the indignation and power of the clergy, 
the more frequently I exclaimed, " Doubtless I shall one day 
perish by the hand of my enemy." Yet, in the darkest 
night of my affliction, my gracious God frequently vouch- 
safed to grant me peace and joy in believing that his 
almighty power was sufficient for me ; and, in the pulpit, 
whatever was nry previous situation, either mental or 
corporeal, when engaged in the investigation of divine 
truth, I was not only tranquil but happy.. And this happi- 
ness I often enjoyed ; for an ardent curiosity obliged the 
people everywhere to hear ; and, when a pulpit could not 
be obtained, a private house, a court-house, a wood, an- 
swered the purpose ; and I rejoiced, while contemplating 
the irradiations of divine truth bursting through the dark 
clouds of prejudice, and with such imposing splendor as 
could only be effectuated by Omnipotent power. 

I received frequent and most pressing invitations to 
visit New England. During my residence in New York, 
I became known to many gentlemen of Connecticut ; and 
I was requested to stop and deliver my testimony in vari- 



244 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



ous places along the road. I resumed roy purpose of visit- 
ing Newport, determining to proceed thither with all 
possible despatch. I had, however, promised to stop at a 
friend's house in Milford, and at another's in G-uilford ; at 
which places I preached to very large congregations. Sev- 
eral strangers, having seen me elsewhere, recognized me 
and entreated me to accompany them to their respective 
homes ; but my object was Newport. Many individuals 
from Norwich departed from Guilford with me ; they gave 
me to understand that, having made a part of my audi- 
ence on the preceding evening, they were extremely desir- 
ous I should proceed with them to Norwich. We passed 
the day very agreeably together, conversing with great 
freedom. About sunset we reached New London, where it 
was my resolution to bid my new associates adieu. But 
they so earnestly importuned me to go on, one gentleman 
in particular, that, accepting his proffered kindness, I was 
that night lodged in his hospitable dwelling. He soon 
became, and ever after continued, my steadfast friend. 
Man} 7 in Norwich received me with great kindness. A 
house of worship was provided ; but it not being suffi- 
ciently spacious, the doors of the great meeting-house 
were thrown open, and never afterwards shut against me. 
Thus, in this instance, the zeal of the people has been 
sufficiently imposing to prevail against ministerial opposi- 
tion. The friends I obtained in Norwich were, in truth, 
inestimable. Some individuals are not yet called, home. 
They remain unwavering in the belief of the truth as it is 
in Jesus, and in their affectionate attachment to its feeble 
advocate. At Norwich I was solicited to preach in the 
meeting-house of Mr. Hart, of Preston ; to which place 
many of my new friends accompanied me. Having passed 



LIEE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



24b 



the night at Preston, on the succeeding morning I recom- 
menced my journey with the Rev. Mr. Hopkins,* of New- 
port. The distance was between thirty and forty miles ; 
but as Mr. Hopkins was going home he would not stop to 
dine on the road. In the course of the da} r , Mr. Hopkins 
thus questioned me : " Well, sir, I suppose you will 
preach in Newport?" — " Very likely, sir." — "You have 
friends there, I presume?" — " No, sir, I do not know a 
single soul." — "You have letters of recommendation, 
perhaps?" — "Not a line, sir." — "Where, then, do 3-011 
intend to go, and what do you intend to do? " — "I have 
laid no plans, sir." — "I promise you, you shall not preach 
in my meeting." — "I should be very much surprised if I 
did, sir." — "And I suppose yon think you are called of 
God to go to Newport?"- — "I think it is not unlikely, 
sir." — " I believe you will find yourself mistaken." — " It 
is possible." — "Suppose you should find no place to 
preach in, what would you do then?" — "Devote myself 
to private conversation." — "But suppose you could find 
no one to converse with?" — "Then I would turn about 
and come back again."— "But what would you think of 
your faith? " — " Call it fancy. But, at present, I think I 
shall preach the gospel in Newport ; and, although I am 
an utter stranger, knowing no one, nor known by any one, 
yet I expect, before I leave the place, to have many 
friends." — " Ay, these are fine fancies indeed." — "Had 
you not better suspend your decision until you witness the 
result? Will it not then be full time to determine whether 
it he faith ov fancy?" — "If it should not be as I pre- 
dict, I should not be ashamed to own my error ; if it 

*See Murray's " Letters and Sketches," vol. I., letter fv. I have supplied the 
name of Hopkins for the initial, which has been adopted in other editions. — 
T. W. 



246 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



should, you ought to blush for your unwarrantable confi- 
dence. But, as it is not impossible you may preach in 
that cit} r , and that some of my people may be among the 
number of your hearers, I think I have a right to question 
you." — "If God will give me leave to preach to his peo- 
ple, I am content." — " What do you mean by that, sir? " 
■ — "Your observation brought to my mind what, on a 
certain occasion, a very distinguished servant of God said 
to his master when he was told to go down and see what 
his people were doing. ' O Lord, they are not my people, 
they are thy people.' However, Moses was not settled on 
your plan." — "Well, sir, I look upon my people to be 
God's people." — " You are perfectly right, sir ; so indeed 
they are ; and if I speak to them at all, I shall speak to 
them in that character." — "Well, sir, as you call j^our- 
self a preacher of the gospel, and m&y, as I have said, 
preach to my people, it is proper I should know what ideas 
you have of gospel. Tell me, sir, what is gospel?" — "I 
am happy in being able to give you a direct answer. The 
gospel, sir, is a solemn declaration, given upon the oath 
of Jehovah, that * in the seed of Abraham all the nations 
should be blessed.' " — " Is that all you know of gospel?" 
— " Would it not, my good sir, require a very long time 
to inform mankind who and what that Seed is? How, and 
in what manner all the nations of the earth are and shall 
be blessed therein? And what blessings they are blessed 
with in Christ Jesus? The apostle Paul, although he 
labored more abundantly than his brethren, found this 
vast, this important subject, abundantly sufficient for his 
zvhole life. And those who are blessed in that Seed will 
find the contemplation of that blessedness, which they 
shall be blessed with in him, sufficient to furnish a song, 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



247 



which, although never ending, will be ever new." — "If 
such be } r our views, \o\\ know nothing at all of gospel." — 
" You could not so absolutely determine this matter, if you 
yourself were not acquainted with the meaning of the term 
gospel. Tell me, then, sir, if } r ou please, what is gospel?" 

— " Why, sir, this is gospel : ' He that believeth, shall be 
saved; and he that believeth not, shall be damned.'" — 
" Indeed, sir, I had thought the literal, simple meaning of 
the term gospel was glad tidings. Which part of the pas- 
sage you have cited is gospel, that which announces salva- 
tion, or that which announces damnation?" — "Well, 
then, if you please, this is gospel : ' He that believeth, 
shall be saved.' " — " Believeth what, sir ?"—" That." — 
"What, sir?"— "That, I tell you." — "What, sir?" — 
" That, I tell you : < He that believeth, shall be saved.' " — 
" Believeth what, sir? What is he to believe? " — " Why, 
that, I tell you." — "I wished, sir, to treat this investiga- 
tion seriously ; but as yon seem disposed to be rather 
ludicrous, we will, if you please, dismiss the subject." — 
" No, sir, I do not mean to be ludicrous ; I am very 
serious." — " Well, sir, if so, then I beg leave to ask what 
is it I am to believe, the believing of which will save me?" 

— "That Jesus Christ made it possible for sinners to be 
saved." — " By what means ? " — " By believing." — " Be- 
lieving what?" — " That." — " What?" — "That Jesus 
Christ made it possible for sinners to be saved." — " By 
what means is it possible that sinners may be saved?" — 
"By believing, I tell you." — "But the devils believe; 
will their believing save them?" — "No, sir." — "Sup- 
pose I believe that Jesus Christ made it possible to save 
sinners ; will that save me? " • — " No, sir." — " Then, sir, 
let me ask what am I to believe, the believing of which 



248 



LIFE OF BEV. JOHN MURRAY. 



will save me?" — " Why, sir, you must believe the gospel 
that Jesus made it possible for sinners to be saved." — ■ 
" But by what means ? " — " By believing," — " Believing 
what?" — " That, I tell you." 

Mr. Hopkins could not but be conscious the ground he 
had taken was untenable. Had he answered in Scripture 
language that the truth to be believed, and which we make 
God a liar by not believing, was that Christ had given hint- 
self a ransom for all, to be testified in due time; that he had 
absolutely tasted death for every man; and that every man 
should be made alive in Christ Jesus, etc., etc., the in- 
ference was unavoidable, nor man, nor devil could undo 
what God had done. The power exists not which can set 
aside the decrees of God. If the Redeemer did not taste 
death for all ; if he has not purchased all \ then those fo? 
whom he has not tasted death, whom he has not purchased, 
have no right to believe lie has } and were they so- to be- 
lieve, the} r must indubitably believe a lie. 

But, finding the temper of Mr. Hopkins rise higher and 
higher every time I repeated my question, I endeavored to 
bring the matter to a conclusion, by observing that I was 
astonis^d to find a master in Israel, and a writer too-, 
either not able, or not willing, to answer a simple question, 
namely, what am I to believe is the foundation of my sal- 
vation? What am I to believe procures iny justification 
in the sight of God?" — " And I am astonished at your 
blasphemy." — "This is in character, sir;, men of your 
description were long since fond of fixing this charge on 
both the Master and his witnesses. But, remember, sir, 
if I have blasphemed, it is only Mr. Hopkins whom I 
have blasphemed." — t; Well, sir, I believe I have gone too 
far. I will, if you please, take back the charge." — "With 




LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



249 



all my heart, sir." — " I do not doubt you may be admired 
in Newport a whole fortnight." — "That, no doubt, will 
be fourteen days longer than you would wish." 

Arriving in sight of Newport Mr. Hopkins said, " There 
sir, is my meeting-house ; at a little distance from thence 
is my dwelling-house, and my friends are multiplied." 

— " Well, sir, I have no home, meeting-house, nor friend, 
in Newport. Yet, I repeat, before I leave that city I ex- 
pect to have more than one home and . many friends." 

— "Well, now I think of it, there is one man who has 
a little place in which possibly you may get leave to preach. 
I will direct you to a man who has some acquaintance with 
him." — "I will thank you, sir, to inform me where my 
horse ma}^ be taken care of ; for myself I have little con- 
cern." — "I promise you horse-keeping is very high in 
Newport." — "That, sir, is very sad tidings to me, for I 
promise you my finances are very low." Some very bitter 
speeches were made ; and I regretted that I was so unfor- 
tunate as to have taken the journey with Mr. Hopkins. 
" Your people," said I, " are leavened with the leaven of the 
Pharisees, and you seem to be leavened with the leaven of 
Herod." — " What do you mean by the leaven of F rod ? " 

— "I mean the nature of Herod." — " How does that ap- 
ply?" — "Some persons urged our Master to fly in con- 
sequence of Herod's seeking his life. ' Go' said ho, 1 tell 
that fox I ivork to-day and to-morrow] etc., etc. Our 
Master denominated Herod a fox for the purpose of giving 
an idea of his nature. What is a fox? A creature 
that lives upon the spoil ; but he is dependent upon the 
secrec}' of the night, and we are told, in order the more 
effectual^ to cover his designs, he sometimes imitates the 
watch-dog, thus endeavoring to make it appear he is de- 



250 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



fending the property of the husbandman, while, under the 
guise of watchful care for others, he is covertly acting for 
himself till the morning dawns, till the light appears, and 
then his labor ends. This is the leaven of Herod, and it 
was of the nature of this insidious animal that our Lord 
cautioned his disciples to beware." — "Well, there is 
something ingenious in that, I confess/' We reached the 
ferry a little before sunset, and on landing at Newport, 
" There," said Mr. Hopkins, pointing to a small shop, " if 
you will call on that man he will give you direction." I 
walked on, stopped at the door, and, holding the bridle in 
my hand, asked the man behind the counter if he would 
be so obliging as to inform me which was the best inn for 
keeping horses. " Please to walk in, sir." I fastened my 
horse, and entered the shop, and seeing the man look very 
gloomy, and hearing him sigh very bitterly, I concluded he 
must be under the pressure of some heavy calamity ; and, 
as no woman appeared, I suspected the poor fellow must 
have lost his w 7 ife, and my sympathies were very power- 
fully excited. I was, however, solicitous about my horse, and 
again requested the requisite information. " Do not make 
yourself uneasy, sir ; my little boy will be here in a few mo- 
ments, when I will send him with your horse, and you will be 
so obliging as to tarry here and drink tea ; my wife is out of 
town, and of course things will not be so well as if she 
were here." I was very much relieved -by this intelligence, 
and sat down. " How far have you travelled to-day, sir?" 
— " From Preston, in Connecticut, sir." — " Did you come 
alone, sir?" — " No, sir, I came in company with a Mr. 
Hopkins, one of your teachers. I parted with him at the 
ferry." — "Did he not ask you to his house?" — "No, 
sir." — "Well, sir, I hope you will believe there is not 



LIFE OF REV, JOHN MUX RAY. 



251 



another man in this town who would have been so deficient. 
You must however, tarry here to-night, and we will take 
especial care of your horse." — "You are very obliging, 
sir ; but I had rather, if you please, attend to my horse 
myself." — "Will you, sir, be so good as to leave this 
matter to me, and take some refreshment } r ourself ? You 
are a public character, and I have been accustomed to 
attend to public characters.'" — "How do you know I 
am a public character? There is nothing in my appear- 
ance which indicates it." — " The moment you came to 
my door it seemed as if some one had said, ' The person 
who addresses you is a preacher ; take kind notice of him ; ' 
and I immediately determined to obey the impulse." 

This instance of providential care nearly overpowered 
me. I was the more affected by this bright manifes- 
tation, as it closed a very dark day. It spoke to my 
wounded mind the language of assurance ; my divine 
Master was with me, and he had prepared the heart 
of this man to receive me, and this soothing consider- 
ation gave me inexpressible pleasure. Had I been in 
a clerical dress, or had the smallest vestige of those 
habiliments been discernible, I should have believed those 
externals had produced their effect. But, divested as I 
was of everything which could speak to the eye, I could not 
but greatly rejoice in this instance of recognizing goodness, 
and 1113- full soul glowed with fervent and devotional grati- 
tude. My cup of tea was mingled with my tears; but 
they were tears of jo} T , of sacred rapture. It was like the 
priest leaving me, and the good Samaritan taking me up ; 
and the oil and wine thus poured into my lacerated bosom 
were most salutary, truly refreshing. 

My kind host summoned a number of his friends to 



252 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



pass the evening ; they all appeared very gloomy, and I 
had sympathy for their situation. After being introduced 
they continued for some time silent, and sighed in their 
turns very bitterly. Those sighs however, although signs, 
were not proofs, of sorrow ; it was the custom for very re- 
ligious people to be very melancholy, and these w r ere very 
religious people ; so much so, that I afterwards discovered 
there was no society in town with which they could con- 
scientiously associate. It was proposed I should narrate 
my experiences, that they might judge if I were a child 
of God. I very readily accommodated nryself to their 
wishes, and gave them a sketch of some memorable scenes 
in my life. When I closed, a profound silence, interrupted 
only by sighs, succeeded. At last one affirmed I was not a 
child of God ; my experiences were not of the true kind ; he 
could not go with me. A second pronounced I was a child 
of God, for he felt me as I proceeded. Being thus divided, 
they knew not on what to determine. At last it was pro- 
posed to apply to Mr. D , for his meeting-house. This 

was the very place pointed out by Mr. Hopkins. I knew 
his design was to ruin me, and therefore without hesitation 
I said I did not feel a freedom to speak in the proposed 
place. Well, would I preach in the room in which we 
were sitting ; many had so done, and why not me ? This, 
also, I rejected ; it was too much confined. They pronounced 
me very difficult ; they did not believe I should find an}' 
other place. I assured them I was not anxious in this 
respect. If God had sent me, he would provide a place 
for me ; if he had not, I was willing to return whence I 
came. 44 Perhaps God has provided you a place by direct- 
ing us to make these offers." — " No, sir, if God had 
directed you to make these offers, and had thought proper 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



253 



I should deliver my message in either of the places 
•mentioned, he would have disposed my heart to embrace 
them ; but this I feel he has not done." They pronounced 
me veiy odd, and took their leave ; but the master of the 
Louse and one of his friends, conceiving there was some- 
thing uncommon in me, my manner and m} r matter, con- 
tinued with me in conversation the greater part of the 
night, and although I had travelled all the day yet I found 
no inconveniences from this additional fatigue. 

After breakfast, on the ensuing dny, I walked round the 
town, and was much pleased with its situation. Its harbor 
and perspective views delighted me ; and, although a stran- 
ger, with only a few shillings in my pocket, my bosom was 
as tranquil as if in my own residence, and master of thou- 
sands. Blessed be God ! I have never yet experienced 
much solicitude about this world, or the gifts wdiich it has 
to bestow. It never entered my head or heart that I should 
not be supplied with whatever was necessary for me. I had 
fared hard, and I could again accommodate myself to the 
vicissitudes of life, — - yea, and without a murmur. I con- 
tinued perambulating the streets until the hour of dining, 
when I returned to my lodgings. " Well, sir, the commit- 
tee of Dr. Stiles'* meeting have been here to engage you 
to supphy their pulpit to-morrow, — Sunday, —and they 
will call for j T our answer in the evening." I was, I confess, 
astonished ; but the evening produced the committee, and 
I acceded to their wishes. One of the gentlemen pressed 

* I have supplied the name of Stiles. I suppose it to have been Ezra Stiles, 
D.D., afterwards President of Yale College. lie left Newport in 1776, when his 
congregation was dispersed by the war, and was chosen to the presidency in 
1777. After his removal to New Haven, on one occasion when Mr. Murray was 
there, he gave orders that not one of the students should hear him. — Letters and 
Sketches, i. 317. — T. W. 



254 



LIFE GF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



me to return with him, and take up my abode at his house 
during my continuance in Newport. I did so, and was 
soon domesticated in his family, which continued my 
occasional home for many, very many 3'ears. Doctor Stiles 
was absent, and it was the business of the committee to 
supply the desk till his return.' My appearance was oppor- 
tune, and the people were generally pleased. I was re- 
quested to publish a lecture for the next day. I did so, 
and the congregation was crowded and attentive. I in- 
formed the audience that I purposed tarrying in Newport 
two weeks, during which time I was ready to unite with 
them in consulting the sacred writings as often as they 
pleased ; but if I delivered anymore lectures, it must be in 
the evening. My reason for which was, that there were 
many laboring persons who could not attend without loss 
of time, — and loss of time to them was loss of property. 
I was then informed, that when Mr. TThitefield was last 
there, the parish had passed a vote against evening lectures. 
I replied, " The parish has an indubitable right to adhere 
to their vote ; but they must excuse me if I thought it my 
duty to abide by my determination." The parish met, re- 
considered their vote, and requested me to preach in the 
evening. Here, then, I preached eveiy evening until the 
doctor's return ; to whom my kind, honest host requested 
me to accompany him on a visit, insisting upon my prom- 
ising that I would return with him. Simple man ! because 
he, a hearer, was pleased, he conceived his minister would 
also be pleased, and that he would press me to abide at his 
house. I promised him, however, and he exulted in having 
gained his point. The doctor received me with cool civility ; 
asked me a great many questions ; spoke of my pulpit tal- 
ents in the way I expected he would speak of them ; and 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MORE AT. 



255 



finally expressed regret that he could not ask my assistance 
on the ensuing day, — Sunday, — as there were so many 
individuals who would be offended. My friend was aston- 
ished. I was not. My friend observed there was but one 
in the congregation who was opposed to my preaching in 
their meeting-house ; and, he added, if I did not preach, the 
people would be greatly disappointed. The doctor would 
not hear him, and we parted, without my receiving even 
an invitation to repeat my call. My guileless host ex- 
pressed great surprise. " So good a man as the doctor ! 
Wiry, I imagined he would have taken you into his arms, 
and never, if he could help it, have permitted ypu to lodge 
anywhere but under his roof." From this moment I had 
much to grieve me in Newport ; for, although nry friends 
were numerous, and my enemies but few, yet those few 
were uncommonly industrious. 

On Monday morning, one of the committee who had first 
engaged me to preach called upon me at my lodgings, and 
informed me there came on Saturday night, from New York, 
a reverend divine, who had given me a most horrid charac- 
ter. He had said many things which he hoped and believed 
were not true. "Pray, sir, where is this good man?" — 
"He is, sir, at the house of Mr. Rogers, father of the Rev. 
Mr. Rogers." — " Will you, sir, call upon this gentleman 
with me?" — "Certainly, sir; but you had better first 
take breakfast." — " B3' no means, I may miss him; and 
I want to see him in your presence." 

We hurried off immediately, but, alas ! he had left town 
at break of day. He had just cast out firebrands, arrows, 
and death, and withdrawn from the investigation upon 
which he had reason to calculate. The parade was full of 
people^ The reports ran like wildfire. Fame had blown 



256* 



LIFE OF REV. JOHHf MURRAY. 



the trumpet of slander, and at the bouse of Mr. Rogers 
many were assembled. I regretted tbat tbe reverend 
calumniator bad Sown. I wished to be tried in tbe pres- 
ence of tbe people. I requested, however, tbat they would 
exhibit tbe charges lodged against me. They did so, and 
they consisted of the following items : First, I had for- 
merly labored for my living ; secondly, I was a married man ; 
thirdly, I bad children ; fourthly, I had been a stage-player ; 
and fifthly, I had sung songs. Upon which I observed, " Per- 
haps my denial of these charges may answer little purpose. 
Yet, as in the presence of Heaven, you will allow me to 
sa3 r , that, although I have made some unsuccessful attempts 
to obtain an honorable competency, yet I have, alas ! and 
it is with extreme sorrow I make the declaration, I have, 
in this world, neither wife nor child. I solemnly assure you 
I never was an actor upon any stage. I acknowledge I 
have sung songs ; I was once pronounced a good singer ; 
yet I do not recollect that I ever sang any bad songs. 
Indeed, I have been so long out of the habit of song-sing- 
ing, that I do not remember what songs I have sung. I do 
not, however, admit, that if these charges could be sub- 
stantiated they ought to criminate me. It cannot be a 
crime to labor. 4 Six clays shalt thou labor/ The apostle 
Paul labored with his own hands. Many of you are mar- 
ried men ; many of you have children ; many in pursuit of 
business quit, for a season, both wives and children ; and 
if I bad relinquished the stage for the life of a religionist, 
it should be considered as a testimony in my favor. With 
regard to song-singing, while music makes a part even of 
divine worship, a sentimental song could not be supposed 
detrimental to the interests of morality ." I requested to 
know if there were any other charges ; and was answered 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



257 



with a murmur of applause, " None, sir, none." The tide 
now turned in my favor, and the people were astonished 
that they had annexed the smallest consequence to those 
reports. 

I had now in Newport a very respectable circle of 
friends, and the occurrence, thus briefly recorded, aug- 
mented their affectionate attentions. As a testimony how 
little they regarded it, they made a party to go out in a 
number of carriages, and pass the day upon the island ; 
and most delightfully did we enjoy ourselves. We left 
town in the midst of the tumult. But those who were 
present at the examination, mingling with their fellow-citi- 
zens, gave them an account of what had passed, and it 
was generally considered as a plan to bar their pulpit 
against me ; this irritated them, and they determined it 
should not succeed. They despatched a message to me. 
I could not be found. I returned in the evening and re- 
ceived, by the sexton of Doctor Stiles' meeting, an address 
signed by a large number of influential characters, ear- 
nestly requesting I would, upon that evening, deliver a 
lecture. I consented. The bell announced my consent. 
The congregation assembled, and the house was very full. 
I selected my subject from Isaiah : " Who hath believed 
our report?" I was divinely supported. My heart was 
very full. Gratitude glowed in my bosom, gratitude to 
that Being, who had upon this as well as upon many former 
occasions so conspicuously appeared for me. 

Among other valuable acquisitions which crowned my 

labors in Newport was the friendship of Mr., afterwards 

General, Varnum, who gave me, upon the succeeding 

morning, a letter to Mr. N. Brown, of Providence, for 

which place I departed. Mr. Brown received me with 
17 



258 



LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY, 



much civilit}', and distinguished me by many acts of kind- 
ness. The Rev. Mr. Snow's meeting-house was thrown 
open. The congregations in Providence were large. I ac~ 
quired many respectable friends, and my visit was truly 
pleasing. I contemplated extending- my tour as far as 
Boston ; but y the season being far advanced, I postponed 
my purpose, and hastened back to my pleasant home. 
Visiting my friends upon the road, I did not reach the 
dwelling of my patron until the winter was at the door. 
This enduring friend began to fear he should eventually 
lose me. And, in truth, the pressing calls made upon me 
allowed me but little leisure to tarry with him. In the 
course of this winter I made many visits. But my little- 
stock of money was nearly exhausted. Had I consented 
to the mode of collecting then in practice, such was the 
zeal of my hearers that I might have amassed large sums. 
But I had no family* I did not w T ant money. I believed 
I should be less obnoxious as a preacher, if I levied no 
taxes upon the people ; and 1 was ambitious of being able 
to ask, 44 Whose ox or whose ass have I taken?" Still, as 
I proceeded, the rancor of the clergy pursued me. This- 
pained me to the soul, and I have passed many agonized 
hours originating from this inveterate source. I, however, 
veiled those scenes of sorrow from the eye of the many. 
In fact y w T hen engaged in conversation, I so unreservedly 
enjoyed my friends, that I ceased for the time being to re- 
flect upon my enemies or their enmity. I never left home- 
without increasing both the number of my friends and my 
enemies ; and they were r individually and collectively,, 
very much in earnest, while every attempt to oppose the 
progress of truth became, in the hand of God, subservient 
to the purpose of opening the eyes of the people. 



Lim OF fi£V. JOHN AtVMlAt. 



I think it was in the January of 1773 that a most im- 
portunate solicitation drew me to Philadelphia ; and, hav- 
ing frequently visited that city, I had many opportunities 
with strangers collected there. Many bore with them to 
their respective homes such an account of my doctrine 
and my manner as excited much cnriosit3 T . I was re> 
peatedly and earnestly urged to proceed to Maryland. An 
eminent plrysician, by repeated letters, reiterated his solici- 
tations. A sense of duty imperiously insisted upon my 
accepting every invitation of the kind to the extent of my 
power, and I consequently determined upon an immediate 
commencement of my journey to Maryland. Accordingly 
my horse was produced at the door, when it occurred to me 
that I had no money. "Well, and what then?" said I, 
" You will not think of a journey in such circumstances ?" 
said cold-hearted Prudence. "I certainly will."— "But 
how are you to get through a strange country in which yon 
have no acquaintance ? " — " For shame I is this a time for 
these remarks ? Do you not know that God Almighty can 
at all times, and in every place, open the heart? And 
that, if he be disposed to do anything with me, or by me 7 
he will mogt assuredly bring me on nyy way?" — "But had 
you not better let your friends in this city know your cir- 
cumstances? They will unquestionably make provision 
for 3'ou." — "But this would be leaning upon an arm of 
flesh ; it would be making provision for myself." — "What 
will 3 t ou do at the first stage? You will not be able to 
purchase anything either for yourself or your horse." — 
"If I meet with no support, I will return immediately ; by 
this I shall know if it be the will of God I should pro- 
ceed." — "And will 3*011 really go on in this way?" — 
"Most assuredly." And I was on the point of mounting 



260 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



my horse, when a gentleman crossed the street. " Are yon 
going ont of town, sir?" — "Yes, sir." — "How far, pray? 
Which way?" — "To Maryland, sir, to visit a place, which, 
as I am told, is eighty miles from this city." — "Are you 
going alone, sir?" — "I am, sir." — "I wish I had known 
of your determination one hour since, I would certainly 
have accompanied you part of the way." — "Well, sir, you 
can do that now; if you please, I will wait an hour." — 
"Will 3 T on? Then I will get ready as soon as possible." 
The gentleman was punctual. In less than an hour he 
was on horseback, and we commenced our journey to- 
gether. We passed on to Chester, delighted with our ride, 
and dined luxuriantly at one of the best inns in the 
country. Here I expected my fellow-traveller would quit 
me. And prudence again questioned : " Will you not 
either return or make known your situation?" — "I will 
do neither. I will trust in the Lord,, and stay upon the 
God of my salvation." Our horses were ordered out ; 
again we proceeded together, and our conversation was 
interesting, animated, delightful. In the middle of the 
afternoon, we made a second stage. "Here," said my 
companion, " I had determined to leave you, but I find I 
am not able ; I must proceed." We went on until evening 
when we put up at the house of a friend of my fellow- 
traveller, in Newark. This town contained an academy, 
in the hall of which 1 afterwards preached. We spent the 
night most agreeably ; and, although I expected to pursue 
the residue of my journey alone, my slumbers were un- 
broken through the night, and I arose happy in the 
thought that I was enabled to cast my care upon God. 

Here, my friend, after commending me to the protection 
of Heaven, bade me adieu. I tarried until breakfast was 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



261 



over, when I requested my horse ; it was brought to the 
door. I took the bridle in iny hand. Prudence again was 
ready with her expostulations. " Well, and what are you to 
do now? You have been thus far brought on by an obliging- 
friend ; you have fifty miles more to ride, through a coun- 
try, not an individual in which yoxx have ever seen, and 3 011 
have not a penny in your pocket." Again, I say, "Am I not 
here, as in Philadelphia, under the care of that beneficent 
Being who holds the universe in his hands? I will go on." 
Just as I raised my foot to the stirrup, the master of the 
house appeared. " One word, sir, if you please ; step in for 
a moment." I once more entered the hospitable dwelling. 
" You will, I hope, excuse me, sir ; but, ever since I left 
my bed this morning, I have been strongty excited to do 
what, however, I am afraid to mention, and what I had 
concluded I would not venture to do. But when I saw you 
in the act of mounting your horse, I could no longer with- 
stand an irresistible impression, which impels me to ask 
your acceptance of this trifle ; " putting into my hands 
abundantly sufficient to bring me to the end of my journey. 
" You may not want this, sir ; but you may meet with some 
individual who does." Could my spirit, at this moment, 
forbear ecstatic prostration before the throne of my God 
and Father? This was manifest^ another instance of the 
interposition of my divine Master. It Avas he who has the 
hearts of all in his hand, that had thus disposed the heart 
of this man. I could not forbear felicitating him on being 
appointed to distribute. I communicated to him my real 
circumstances, while tears of pleasure gushed into his eyes. 
He would then have made an addition to the gratuity ; but 
this I resolutely refused. I had enough for my present 
purpose, and more than enough would have been burden- 



262 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MUItllAT. 



some. I went on from this place, with inexpressible de- 
light, my soul warmly disposed to magnify the Lord, and 
to trust him at all times, not being afraid. My faith by 
these manifestations thus invigorated and renewed, I 
rejoiced in the good pleasure of my God ; my way was 
made clear before me, and I nothing doubted that my jour- 
ney would be crowned with success. This day was indeed 
a happy day. I shall certainly never, so long as memory 
shall continue its office, recur to it without the most pleas- 
urable emotions. 

Upon the evening of this memorable day I arrived at the 
end of my journey, and I was received by the physician, 
whose letter of earnest solicitation had brought me thus far, 
with many demonstrations of joy. I was, however, greatly 
surprised to find a person, who I understood was master of 
a large fortune, plain, if not penurious, both in his house, 
furniture, and apparel ; but, if I was disappointed by the 
appearance of the man and his dwelling, I was abundantly 
more so by his conversation, from which I learned that he 
had been imposed upon by the accounts he had received of 
me. He had been made to believe I was, for matter and 
manner, a second Whitefield. My heart sunk, as I re- 
flected what I had to expect from a gentleman thus cir- 
cumstanced. I beheld before me a self-righteous Cal- 
vinist ; and I believed, when he discovered (as I was 
determined he immediately should) the amount of my testi- 
mony, he would sincerely repent that he had summoned me 
to his abode, and that I should, in consequence, have much 
to suffer. The house afforded no spare bed, and, of course, 
I lodged, I cannot say slept, with my host. The whole 
night was devoted to conversation, and I embraced the first 
pause to inform him, that I once viewed the Deity, and the 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



263 



creature man, precisely as they now appeared to him ; but 
that a complete revolution had been wrought in my mind. 
"Sir, I once believed the faithful Creator had called into 
existence by far the greatest number of human beings, with 
no other intention than to consign them to endless misery, 
rescuing only a few respected persons from a state of sin 
and suffering. You will, my dear sir, probably regret that 
you have invited me hither, when I inform you that the 
Christ in whom I trust, and the gospel which I preach, is not 
the Christ of whom you expected to hear, nor the gospel you 
supposed I should preach. The Christ in whom I formerly 
confided was a partial Saviour; but the Christ in whom I 
now trust is the Saviour of the world. The gospel you 
have been accustomed to hear, and which j-ou expected I 
should preach, is a partial gospel, conve3 T ing the glad 
tidings of eternal life in Christ Jesus only to an elected few. 
The gospel I preach is glad tidings to every individual of 
the human race ; assuring them that in Christ, the promised 
seed, all the nations, all the families of the earth shall be 
blessed. I fear, sir, that not being accustomed to the minis- 
try of the reconciliation, committed to the npostles, to wit, 
that God was in Christ reconciling the world unto himself, 
not imputing unto them their trespasses ; that, when all man- 
kind like sheep had gone astray, the Lord, the offended God, 
laid upon Jesus the iniquities of us all, that he might put 
them away by the sacrifice of himself, that they might thus, 
as a millstone, be cast into the depths of the sea, and be found 
no more at all ; that Jesus, thus performing the will of God, 
the world may ultimately behold him in his true character, 
as the Lamb of God, who taketh away the sin of the world ; 
thus becoming the Saviour of all men, — not in, but from 
their sins; — I fear, my good sir, that when you hear rac 



264 



LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 



thus preaching the gospel, which God himself preached to 
Abraham, and which he testified by the mouth of all his 
holy prophets ever since the world began, your disappoint- 
ment will be grievous. I know, sir, you have not been ac- 
customed to hear of Universal Love, of boundless compas- 
sion ; and these sounds may make you as angry as they 
have made many of our brethren in every age." Here I 
made a full pause, continuing for a few moments in painful 
suspense. I was, however, soon relieved. "No, sir, you 
have nothing to fear from me ; for although the things of 
which you speak have never entered into my head or heart, 
yet give me leave to assure you, it will never give me pain 
to know that God's ways are not as my ways, nor his 
thoughts as my thoughts. My mind is so far from revolt- 
ing at the tidings } t ou bear, that nothing would give me 
more unutterable joy than to be assured of their truth." 
Thus was my mind exonerated from a weight of dread ap- 
prehension. I asked him what assurance he could either 
wish for or expect? "Nothing more than a 'Thus saith 
the Lord.' " I continued, through the residue of the 
night, preaching the gospel, according to the Scriptures ; 
and it pleased Almight}^ God so to furnish my mind with 
testimonies drawn from the sacred volume, that I went on, 
from Genesis to Eevelation, until the morning dawned 
upon us. But a brighter morning dawned upon the long- 
be.nighted mind of my wondering hearer ; he exhibited, 
what he said he experienced, rapture before unknown. He 
was, indeed, as one brought out of darkness into marvel- 
lous light, and from the power of Satan unto God. I never 
before saw so great a change wrought in so short a time. 
He gave me a sketch of his life, which had been emploj^ed 
in seeking to accumulate riches and righteousness. The 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



265 



former he had gained, but the latter he had not ; and he 
was constrained to confess that if the wealth he had taken 
such unwearied pains to obtain and to keep were no better 
in the sight of man than his righteousness was in his own 
estimation, and in the estimation of his God, he had been 
all his life laboring in vain, and spending his strength for 
nought. By commerce, and the practice of ptrysic, the 
doctor had acquired a fortune of forty thousand pounds 
sterling ; yet from the appearance of the man, we should 
have concluded his resources extremely limited. His 
offspring were only one son and one daughter ; his wife was 
no more ; his son a prodigal ; his daughter, a married wo- 
man, in eligible circumstances, and of a most amiable 
character. The doctor was far advanced in life, and al- 
though he had been uniformly employed in getting and 
hiding money, } r et he was so religious a man as to part with 
four hundred pounds sterling toward building a meeting- 
house ; and he was greatly mortified, at not being able to 
obtain permission for me to preach therein, though he went 
so far as to assure those who had the care of the house, 
that he would put it in complete repair, if he might be in- 
dulged with the pleasure of hearing whom he pleased in the 
pulpit, when it was not otherwise occupied. But the Pres- 
bytery had given orders that no person should be admitted 
into any of their meetings without a letter of license, first 
had and obtained from that body. " So," said the doctor, 
" let God send by whom he will send, the sent of God can 
obtain no admission ; but those whom the Presbytery think 
proper to send must be admitted everywhere ! Is not this 
rank priestcraft?" But although the doors of every house 
of worship in that neighborhood were shut against us, many 
private houses were devoted to us, and the doctor was inde- 



266 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



fatigable in striving to spread abroad the savor of the Ee- 
deemer's name. His soul was so highly wrought by the dis- 
coveries he had made, that he most ardently desired to make 
all men acquainted with the grace in which they stood. 

The doctor was a man of uncommon abilities ; his mind 
was highly cultivated ; I never knew a finer speaker. He 
was well acquainted with the religion of the world, and 
possessing a happy facility of manifesting his knowledge, 
when it pleased God to show him his salvation, — when he 
had power given him to believe with his heart the word of 
God, which giveth life unto all men, — from the abun- 
dance of his believing heart, his mouth became fall of the 
praises of his God ; and wherever he went, so often as 
opportunity offered, he delighted to magnify the name of 
the Redeemer ; spreading far and wide, to the utmost of his 
abilities, the truth as it is in Jesus, the glad tidings of the 
gospel. Everybody who knew the man was astonished ; 
for, strange to tell, he became liberal, — liberal of that with 
which he had heretofore found it so difficult to part ; he 
could part with his money ; and, among numerous instances 
of his generosit}^, I myself was an example. He saw my 
vestments were rather worn, — they could not last al ways, — 
and he ordered me a complete suit of superfine broadcloth. 
I looked at the doctor, at his garments much worse than mine. 
u I am really astonished," said I. " Not more than I am nry- 
self, sir. I have for a whole year been perfectly aware that 
I wanted raiment, yet I could not find it in my heart to 
purchase even those articles of which I stood in most need ; 
but, sir, I do indeed behold my former self with detesta- 
tion." I continued with the doctor for several weeks. He 
accompanied me from place to place, enjoying abundantly 
more than the world could give or take away ; and his 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



267 



numerous connexions were partakers of his felicity. For 
myself, I had rich opportunities of preaching the gospel of 
the kingdom, and my pleasures were proportioned to the 
satisfaction which I was instrumental in communicating; 
but it became necessary I should return to Philadelphia, 
and the doctor was exceedingly affected ; yet, previous to 
my final departure, I had engaged to preach at an Episco- 
palian church at some distance, where it was believed a 
large concourse of people would be assembled. But on 
Saturday evening, the wind being north-west brought on 
so severe a frost, that the ensuing day, Sunday, February 
14, 1773, was by far the coldest day I had ever experi- 
enced. 

I was, however, determined to keep my appointment, 
and I rode six miles on horseback, accompanied by a gen- 
tleman who had conceived for me the strongest affection ; 
and we derived so much pleasure from the divine subjects 
which engaged our attention, that we hardly adverted either 
to the severity of the day or the distance ; and my fellow- 
traveller, in the fulness of his heart, declared, did it depend 
upon him, we would ride on till the close of time, and then 
leap into eternity together. The cold, however, was suffi- 
ciently piercing to compel us to assemble in the school- 
house instead of the church, where a large chimney and a 
blazing hearth hardly kept us from freezing ; yet was my 
own heart, and the hearts of many of my hearers, warmed 
by that fire of divine love enkindled b}' the word and spirit 
of our God ; which spirit graciously vouchsafed to take of 
the things of Jesus and show them unto us, giving us not 
ow\y peace, but joy, unspeakable jo} r , in believing. I pro- 
posed departing for Philadelphia on the following Monday ; 
but the doctor and his friends prevailed upon me to tarry 



268 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



a day or two longer, in which time he labored hard to per- 
suade me to continue with him. " Only," said he, " con- 
sent to abide here, and I will very cheerfully build for you 
as handsome a church as any in the country, and it shall 
be your own. I will devote ten of the forty thousand 
pounds which I possess to this purpose. I thanked him 
most cordially for his flattering offer ; but added that the 
tender of his whole estate would be no temptation to 
me to accept a permanent residence. My mind was at 
that time solemnly impressed by a conviction that I was 
sent out to preach the gospel ; and that, as the servant of 
God, I must neither loiter by the way, nor seek to evade 
the spirit of my commission. An imposing sense of duty 
compelled me to say that, so long as I was able, I would 
submit to the will of my Master. Upon the night previous 
to my departure we had little sleep. We expatiated with 
pleasing wonder upon the mysterious ways of Heaven, and 
w r e poured out our souls in prayer to that God, who, having 
brought us together, had caused us to drink into one spirit. 
The morning came, when, after commending ourselves to 
God and to the word of his grace, I was on the point of 
departing, in the same manner I had left Philadelphia, yet 
without even the vestige of apprehension. But the doctor, 
taking me by the hand, essayed to articulate ; but was 
necessitated to pause for self-possession, when he said, 
" God forever bless 3 r ou, and be with you, and wherever 
you go make your way plain before you ; and, if we never 
meet again in this world (for I am an old man, j^ou know), 
I rejoice in the assurance that we shall meet in the presence 
of £od, our Saviour, and spend an eternity together." He 
then put into my hand gold sufficient, abundantly sufficient, 
to bear my expenses even to the dwelling of my patron. 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



269 



" You may want this upon the road," said he ; " take this 
as a memento of friendship." — " I am, dear sir, amazed at 
your liberalit} T ." — "I, also, am amazed. It is the Lord's 
doings, and truty it is marvellous in my eyes." Thus 
closed my visit to my worthy friend, after I had promised 
that, should it please God, I would cheerfully visit him 
again. 

On my return, being earnestly solicited, I preached in 
the hall of the academy at Newark ; and I once more 
reposed under the roof of that hospitable man, who was 
made the instrument of administering to my necessities on 
my way. At Wilmington, too, I delivered my message ; 
and, elevated by an excursion which had been so greatly 
blessed, I returned to Philadelphia in perfect health and 
high spirits. During the residue of the spring, the whole 
of the succeeding summer, and a part of the autumn, until 
October, 1773, my time was divided between Pennsylvania, 
the Jerse3 T s, and New York. My friends were to be found 
among every class of people, from the highest to the most 
humble, and almost every day increased the number both 
of my friends and enemies. The clergy continued a pha- 
lanx of opposition. One good man stumbled upon a most 
ingenious device. A Mr. Still, a Baptist priest, wrote a 
most elaborate letter, in which he charged me with many 
crimes, assuming as facts those reported crimes, which my 
soul abhorred. This letter he read in every company in 
which he mixed ; sent copies of it to New England, and 
various other parts of the country ; giving those to whom 
he made his communications to understand that he had 
forwarded this letter to me, although / never saw it, and 
was indebted for an account of its contents to some worthy 
individuals, who were among the number of those to whom. 



270 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



it was read. Thus did this man industriously essay to 
prejudice the minds of the people, trusting that their hatred 
of me and nry testimon}' would, if possible, be commensu- 
rate with his own ; and thus, at his righteous tribunal, I was 
tried and condemned, and, as far as he could prevail, exe- 
cuted, without being suffered to plead in nry own defence, 
or even furnished with a copy of the allegations against me. 
Had I not reason to supplicate, "Grant me, O my God! 
patient resignation, and the divine light of thy countenance" ? 
Yet the character, priest and adversary, did not alwaj^s 
prove synonymous. A clergyman, upon a memorable even- 
ing, entered a house of public worship in which I was 
promulgating the truth as it was in Jesus. He presented 
himself with a determination to oppose me ; but, quitting 
the church and entering nry lodgings, he folded me in his arms, 
exclaiming (while his ey e glistened with pleasure) , " If this 
be heresy, may I so worship the God of my fathers during 
the residue of my days.'* Nor was this a solitary instance ; 
Mr. Duchee,* minister of the established church of Pkila- 

* We have recently seen an anecdote of Rev. Mr. Duchee, published in the 
" Philadelphia Liberalist," of Nov. 24, 1832. It occurs in an obituary notice of 
Mr. Anthony Cuthbert, one of the early Universalists of that city. 

" Parson Duchee, of the Episcopal church, was an intimate acquaintance and 
friend of Mr. C.'s father, and often visited him. They held frequent conferences 
in a private room; and it was a considerable time before Mr. C. could ascertain 
the object they had in view. He at length, in the absence of his father, entered 
the apartment to which they so frequently retired, and found on the table Paul 
Siegvolck's ' Everlasting Gospel' (an edition of which had been printed at Ger- 
mautown, in 1?53, by Christopher Sower, and, as was supposed, at the suggestion 
of Dr. George De Benneville). Mr. C. subsequently learned from his father, 
that Mr. Duchee and himself entertained no doubt of the truth of the doctrine 
maintained by Siegvolck ; but they thought the time had not then arrived for 
the public proclamation of the sentiment. Mr. C. thought differently; and, on 
all suitable occasions, expressed his belief in the final reconciliation of all things 
to the dominion of love. 

" It is more than probable that Mr. C. was one of the hearers and friends of 



LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURE AY. 



271 



delphia, Mr. Tretarcl, of New Rochelle, Mr. Gano of New 
York, Mr. Tyler,* Episcopalian minister of Norwich, were 
among the number of those, who, if the}' were not fully with 
me in sentiment, have uniformly discharged toward me the 
duty of Christian friends. My opportunities of observing 
uncommon characters were multiplied. I regret that the 
limits I have prescribed to myself will not permit me to 
dwell upon the life and virtues of Thomas Say, of Philadel- 
phia ; a man who, it may be said, revisited this world, after 
being privileged with more than a bird's-eye view of 
another. | Anthony Benezet might also claim many pages.]; 
Christopher Marshall ; the celebrated Mrs. Wright, and 
her uncommon family ; many shades of departed friends 

John Murray, on the first arrival in Philadelphia of that eminent servant of 
the Lord, in 1772 or '73." — T. W. 

* Rev. John Tyler. He continued until his death pastor of the church in Nor- 
wich, (Conn.). Ue published anonymously six discourses in favor of Mr, Murray's 
sentiments, entitled " Universal Damnation and Salvation clearly proved by the 
Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments." They form a very interesting de- 
fence of Universalism, upon the Kellyan principles. — Mod. Hist. Universalism, 
p. 358. — T. W. 

t Thomas Say was a Universalist. — See his Life, written by his son, Phil,, 
1796, pp. 5, 44, 93, 94, 105, and others. He was a highly benevolent, and, in other 
respects, good man, but of a visionary mind. "When a young man he supposed 
himself to have had a trance, in which he visited the abode of the blessed on 
high, but was not permitted to remain. A full account is given of this in the 
book to which we have referred, with the proofs to which, if any one has a desire 
to examine the subject, I direct his attention. — T. W. 

| Mr. Murray had reason to congratulate himself on the acquaintance and 
friendship of Benezet. He was a citizen of Philadelphia, and an eminently good 
man. Ills life was spent in the education of youth. He was author of a " Cau- 
tion to Great Britain and her Colonies," 1707, " An Historical Account of Guinea, 
with an Inquiry on the Slave-trade," 1772, Svo. His whole life was employed in 
acts of charity, and his death, therefore, was universally lamented. Several 
hundred negroes attended his funeral ; and an American officer, who had been 
engaged in the continental war, returning from his funeral, exclaimed, " that he 
had rather be Anthony Benezet, in that coffin, than George Washington with all 
his glory. » — T. W. 



272 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



flit before me, but I must hasten from the now beatified 
group, and pursue the sometimes rugged path, over which 
the journey of life hath conducted me. 

Upon the 10th of October, 1773, 1 embarked on board the 
Humbird, Captain Lawton, for Newport, which place we 
reached at early breakfast, and where I was received in a 
manner comporting with urv most sanguine wishes. Belcher, 
Warner, Otis, Newton, Wright, Wanton, Waterhouse, 
Ellery, etc., etc., these all received me with open arms ; 
but having reason to believe much confusion would result 
from an attempt to open the doors of the meeting-house in 
which Dr. Stiles officiated, I sent the doctor an assurance 
that I would no more enter his pulpit. The governor 
granted the state-house to the solicitations of my friends, 
and became himself one of my audience. I preached also 
in the meeting-house of Mr. Kelly, and at the prison. The 
congregations were crowded and attentive. 

Newport contains a s}'nagogue, and the man\ r Jews col- 
lected there pressed to hear. Mr. Lopez, an opulent gen- 
tleman among the Jews, celebrated as well for humanity as 
for mercantile knowledge, met me at the door of the state- 
house, and, pressing my hand, said, " God Almighty be 
with you, sir, and bless and preserve you wherever you go," 
— giving you good success always, he would have added, 
but his overflowing heart evidently denied him utterance. 
The Jews were generally pleased. They declared they had 
never before heard so much in favor of Christianity* Poor 
hearts ! They would see the things which belong to their 
peace, if the appointed time of the Father were come. In 
this their clay are they hidden from their eyes ; but the 
day of the Lord cometh, when whatever is hidden shall be 
revealed. 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 273 

I was solicited to take up my abode at Newport, and 
assured, if I would do so, a place of public worship should 
be erected for nry accommodation. These good people 
learned that I had been necessitated to part with my horse, 
for the purpose of defraying the expenses attendant upon 
reprinting specimens of apostolic preaching, selected from 
the writings of Mr. Kelly ; and they insisted upon purchas- 
ing me another. Nor was this all. They helped me on my 
way, contributing abundantly, by 'private gratuities, to the 
relief of my necessities. Mr. Ward, secretary to the then 
province of Rhode Island, with many others, were, upon 
this my second visit, added to the number of my friends. 
A member of Dr. Stiles' church informed me, it was 
affirmed I had absolutely said all men should be saved. I 
assured him I had never said all men sJiould be saved. I 
had said Jesus was and is the Saviour of all men ; and that, 
in the fulness of time, he would gather together all things 
into one, — bringing in his ancient people, the Jews, and 
with them the fulness of the Gentiles, — causing all flesh to 
come and worship before him, and making of Jew and Gen- 
tile one new man, so making peace. And that all the 
kingdoms of the world should become the kingdoms of God 
and of his Christ. I publicly invited any individual in 
Newport, who had aught to say against the testimony I 
delivered, to meet me in an open manner, the Bible in his 
hand, and if the arguments he should produce were more 
consistent with the sacred writings, I would, upon the spot, 
in the most unreserved manner, acknowledge and renounce 
my errors. 

Quitting Newport, I took passage for East Greenwich. 
A fellow-passenger told me he had been informed I had 
said, our sins were laid upon the devil ; and that there was 
18 



274 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



nothing for us to do ; and he wished to know if I believed 
either the one or the other. " Certainly not," I replied ; 
" it was not the devil, but the Redeemer, on whom the Lord 
laid the iniquities of us all." I assured him we had many 
things in our various characters to perform, to which it 
was our bounden duty to attend ; and that those who con- 
tinued in offences would be experimentally able to say, 
" Truly, the way of the transgressor is hard ; " for, 
assuredly, they would be chastised with many stripes. My 
appearance at East Greenwich was welcomed by Mr. Var- 
num and others. Several gentlemen, whom I had not 
before known, called upon me at Mr. Varnum's. Among 
these was Mr. Hawkins, who questioned me, and appeared 
satisfied with my answer. He introduced me to his friends, 
Mr. Green, etc. I preached in the court-house to a crowded 
audience. The superior court was then in session ; the 
judges and the lawyers were among my hearers. I was 
laboring under great indisposition, but God was with me. 
Esquire Casey took me to his house, where I was met by 
Judge Potter for the purpose of conversation. He said he 
had never been pleased with pulpit exhibitions, because they 
were so replete with contradictions, and he was determined 
to sift me thoroughly. We passed the night together. He 
performed what he had proposed with candor, and appeared 
satisfied with the result. At parting, he earnestly wished 
me success, and praj^ed that I might be preserved from the 
power of the priest and the flatterer. This gentleman con- 
tinued to evince great affection for me. He seemed to 
understand and feel the power of the gospel. I had not 
seen his superior. At this period I was desirous of extend- 
ing my tour as far as Boston ; but, notwithstanding the 
repeated manifestations of divine protection with which I 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



275 



had been favored, a reluctance to venturing on untried 
scenes was gradualty pervading my spirit, and I was again 
ready to ask, "What am I to do in Boston?" Yet I 
added, " 0 my unbelieving heart, who shall deliver me 
from this bod} r of sin and death? Blessed be God, wJio is 
faithful" Passing an hour at Mrs. Green's, I was intro- 
duced to a lady from Boston, a Mrs. Hubbard. She ques- 
tioned me upon the doctrine of reprobation, particularly 
that passage which expressly asserts, " Jacob have I loved, 
and Esau have I hated." My answers were so much to her 
satisfaction that she gave me a pressing invitation to her 
house in Boston ; and, as I contemplated a journey thither, 
she prayed me to take a letter to Mr. Hubbard, and to 
make his dwelling nry abode during my continuance in the 
metropolis of Massachusetts. From East Greenwich I 
proceeded to Pawtuxet, delivering my message in their 
house of worship ; and from thence I repaired to Provi- 
dence, where I was received, by those who had before bade 
me welcome, with continued kindness. Immediately on 
my arrival, a summons to pass the evening with the Rev. 
Mr. Snow was presented me. I delayed not to attend him, 
and I was accompanied by Mr. Binne}-, a 3'oung gentleman 
of great promise. Mr. Snow's parlor was nearly filled by 
the members of his church and congregation. A long and 
solemn pause succeeded the usual ceremonies of introduc- 
tion. Mr. Snow at length broke silence by observing, 
" "We are, sir, perfectly aware, that by far the greater part 
of the town are anxious to hear you ; and, as our house is 
the most convenient, we presume application will be made 
for its use. But since you were last here, a few of our 
members have heard strange reports respecting 3-011 (name- 
ly), That you believe all mankind will be saved ; and that 




276 



LIFE OF IiEV. JOHN. MVRHAY. 



the new birth is not in us, but in Christ. I have, therefore, 
thought proper to call together several of my church, that 
they may have an opportunity of speaking to you, and 
determining whether they think proper to open their doors. 
Do you, sir, believe that all mankind will be saved?" — 
" I believe Jesus Christ is the Saviour of all men; that, by 
the grace of God, he tasted death for every man; that he is 
the propitiation for the sins of the whole world; and that God 
teas in Christ, reconciling the world unto himself not impuU 
ing unto them their trespasses.'" — " Well, and do you 
believe that all are saved?" — "Not as unbelievers ; the}' 
who believe not are damned." — "How, then, are they 
interested in Jesus ? " — "Precisely as they were in the first 
Adam." — "But all are not interested in Jesus as they 
were in the first Adam." — "How, then, doth it appear, 
that as, by the offence of one man, judgment came upon all 
men to condemnation, so by the righteousness of one, the free 
gift came upon cdl men to justification of life?" — " And do 
you, sir, believe that, in consequence of this, all will be 
finally happy?" — "Do you, sir, believe all who learn of 
the lather will be happy?" — " Oh, yes." — " And do you 
belie^ : all will be taught of God, and come to Jesus and 
be sa, id?" — "No, indeed." — " Do ministers in general 
belies this?" — "No, we know they do not." — ""Why, 
then, lo they pray for it? Do they not pray that God 
would hasten the happy time when he shall bring in his 
ancient people, the Jews, and with them the fulness of the 
Gentiles ; that all the kingdoms of the world may become 
the kingdoms of God and of his Christ ; that the} T may all 
be taught of God, from the least unto the greatest? For 
this, and much more, clergymen repeatedly pray. And can 
we suppose they are dealing hypocritically with their God? 



LIFE OF JIEV. JOHN MURRAY. 



277 



Are they such monsters of impiety as to solicit, for what 
they believe the Almighty had determined, before the 
foundation of the world, he would never grant?" A pro- 
found pause succeeded ; after which I was asked, " Do 3^011, 
sir, believe the New Birth is in us, or in Christ?" — "He 
who is born of God sinneth not. But if ice say we have no 
sin, tee deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. He icho 
is born of God is a new creature. All old things are passed 
away, and cdl things are become 7iew. A good man, out of 
the good treasury of his heart, bringeth not forth good and 
evil, but good, only good. I conceive, therefore, that to be 
born again, or, as it may be rendered, to be born anew, or 
born from above, alludes to the birth of the human family 
in the person of Christ Jesus, we being members of his 
body. Hence the sacred record decidedly pronounces, 
Created anew in Christ Jesus." — "Well, that is Scripture, 
to be sure." — " Are we Christ Jesus ? " — " No, certainly." 
— " Then, can being created anew in Christ Jesus be under- 
stood as being created anew in ourselves?" A part of the 
compan} r discovered great bitterness ; others were more 
calm. I requested them to observe, that, if they :eported 
me as a heretic, they must remember they smote me through 
Paul's skirts, for I had delivered no sentiments of my own 
fabrication. I had merely rehearsed in their ears the 
unadulterated language of revelation. I therefore begged 
I might be honestly reported. 

One gentleman declared that whether I deemed it honest 
or not, he should report me as a heretic. I then insisted 
he should declare what heres} T was. He said I was against 
the gospel. I requested he would sny what gospel was. 
He replied, " It is whatever is found in the New Testament." 
I appealed to the company whether this was either fair or 



278 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



true ? whether there were not many particulars in the New 
Testament which were not gospel ? and whether the gospel 
was not preached to Abraham ? or whether the gospel was 
not God's good sayings or glad tidings to all people? 
whether I had said anything contrary to this, or proposed 
• any way of salvation beside Christ Jesus ? or whether I 
had privily strove to bring in such a damnable doctrine as 
to cleiry the Lord who bought them? They were ail 
dumb. At length Mr. Snow said, " Well, my friends, 
you know the reason of my calling you together, and you 
can now determine respecting Mr. Murray's again entering 
our pulpit. I would have you freely deliver joxxv senti- 
ments." One said the people wished to hear, and there was 
no house so convenient as theirs ; he could see no reason 
why I should not preach. Another objected ; his con- 
science would not allow him to consent. A third remarked 
the people would go to hear me, preach where I would ; 
suppose I was wrong, I could not contaminate the house ; 
for his part he did not see that I had said anything that 
had been proved erroneous ; that he most devoutly 
blessed God he had been present, for he had received more 
light than he had ever before enjo} T ed ; and many united 
their acknowledgments with his. I assured them it was 
my solemn determination to preach nothing but Christ 
Jesus and him crucified for every human being. Finally, 
they determined to open their doors for my reception ; and 
thus, by permission of minister and people, I again and 
again addressed a vast multitude from the pulpit of the 
Rev. Mr. Snow of Providence, and my hearers appeared 
serious and attentive. 

During my continuance in Providence I became ac- 
quainted with Doctor Huse, of that place, a very uncommon 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



279 



man, and, as it appeared to me, of a very luminous intellect. 
Bidding me God-speed he added, " Sir, I rejoice that you 
dare be honest. How long you will continue so I know not. 
At present } T ou are boldly facing danger, and without 
fear. Continue, I beseech you, to declare unmixed truth, 
although all men should be against 3 T ou." On the 26th 
of October, 1773, I took a seat in the stage for Boston. 
Late upon the evening of that day we reached town. I 
had a letter from Mrs. Hubbard, and another for a gentle- 
man, a Major Paddock ; but I was unwilling to disturb 
strangers at an hour so improper for a first introduction, 
and the old question recurred, " What are you to do now?" 
The passengers one after another were dropped. I remained 
alone in the coach, and the coachman civilly questioned, 
" Where will you be set down, sir?" — " Can you recom- 
mend me to a decent tavern?" While he deliberated, a 
son of Mrs. Hubbard accosted him : "Is Mr. Murray in 
the coach?" — " Yes, sir." He approached the door. 
" My mother, sir, has written to m}* father respecting you, 
and we have been looking out for you with great im- 
patience." All was immediate^ settled. And thus I was 
met in Boston by the good providence of God, while my 
throbbing heart exclaimed, " To the Lord belongeth mercy ; 
and praise and thanksgiving are his righteous due." 

By Mr. Hubbard I was received with great kindness. He 
was an innocent, honest man, and his family were truly 
friendly. Upon the ensuing morning I delivered my letter 
to Major Paddock, whose reception of me was such as a 
stranger ought to expect, coolly civil. He, however, intro- 
duced me to Mr. Williams, a respectable, philanthropic 
gentleman, strongly attached to the writings of Jacob 
Behmen, To Mr. Williams I have most gratefully to 



280 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



acknowledge a series of most important and essential 
obligations. Measures were soon in train for the purpose 
of procuring a place in which I might be allowed to deliver 
my testimonj^ ; but every effort was ineffectual, until the 
following Saturda}', October 30th. In this interval I re- 
ceived from Mr. Thomas Handasyde Peck a polite invi- 
tation to dine. Mr. Peck was a very respectable man, and 
his lady a most valuable woman ; * they were unwearied 
in contributing, to the utmost of their abilities, to the re- 
lief of the sons and daughters of sorrow. Ranking among 
the admirers of Mr. Whitefield, they possessed eminently 

* The acquaintance thus formed with Mr. Peck was the means of advancing 
Mr. Murray rapidly into notice. That gentleman had been an admirer of Mr. 
Whitefield, and, hearing of the arrival of Mr. Murray, and of his having been 
a preacher in TVhitefield's connection, he solicited an interview. Mr. Peck was 
a warm Christian, of a benevolence easily touched, and ardent in his passions. 
Mr. Murray related, on his first interview, an account of his landing at Good 
Luck, the circumstances of his reception by Potter, and his subsequent labors 
and sufferings. By this narrative, and his entertaining manners, his interest- 
ing style of preaching, and the benevolent doctrine he taught, he completely 
captivated the family, and made them his steadfast friends. 

Thomas Handasyde Peck was a gentleman of great integrity and respect- 
ability, and was the maternal grandfather of our present distinguished citizen, 
Thomas Handasyde Perkins. He and his wife were both natives of England ; 
but on the breaking out of the political difficulties between Great Britain and 
her colonies, he espoused, and of course with great ardor, the cause of the latter. 
Both Mr. Peck and his wife died in the early part of the devolution. The house 
in which he resided, and in which Mr. Murray preached, was on the left-hand 
side of Merchants' Row as you pass from State Street to the market. On the 
western corner of State Street and Merchants' Row stood the Golden Ball 
Tavern, near which, going on toward the market, a person would come to a 
court called Peck's Court; and at the head of this court stood the mansion of 
the hospitable Thomas H. Peck. He had been a hatter by occupation, and was 
familiarly known by the title of " Honest Peck, the hatter." The whigs were 
proud of him, and this title was bestowed upon him in a ballad, published in 
the midst of the political troubles. 

We take the liberty here to give publication to the following letter from 
Hon. Thomas H. Perkins, which with equal readiness and urbanity he furnished 
in reply to certain queries addressed to him. We trust he will excuse the use 



LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 



281 



the characteristic of his adherents, — they were abundantly 
less bigoted than other religionists. In the agreeable 

we have made of Ms name, and accept of this insufficient acknowledgment of 
his kindness. 

" Boston, March 16, 1833. 

" Mr. Thomas Whiitjsmoee, — - 

" Sir : Your letter of the Hth current was received on the day it was written, 
hut I could not answer it understanding!)' without consulting my sister, Mrs, 
Sturgis, who lived nearer to the time and circumstances respecting which you 
Inquire. My own recollections are fresh on the subject of the intimacy of the 
late Rev. John Murray in the family of my maternal grandfather, but I am not 
quite sure whether my recollection carries me to the year before what was 
called The Siege, or to the year 7 76, when it was raised. My sister says site 
recollects the intimacy of Mr. Murray in the family of Mr. Peck, as early as 
1773, being the year she was married, and from which incident she is enabled to 
establish the date. She tells me that both our grandparents, and cur own 
parents, professed the religious principles at that time held by Mr. Murray, and 
that they all died adhering to that belief. My grandparents died the summer 
of 1776 and 1777. Mr. Peck died first. His residence at his death, and for many 
years preceding, was in a house which stood in a square, approached by a court 
leading from Merchants 7 Row. xVt the corner of this court was the Golden Ball 
Tavern, which at that time was kept by Colonel Marston, who afterwards kept 
the Bunch of Grapes in State Street. Both those houses have long since been 
taken down to make room for improvements. I well remember that my grand- 
father permitted Mr. Murray to preach in the meeting-house, then standing in 
School Street, and that there were occasional contests between the supporters 
of 3Ir. Murray, and those who opposed him; and that the preacher was at one 
time assailed not only by vehement speeches, but more solid arguments. 

" I was too young to be able to judge correctly of the characters of those who 
are the subject of this letter. The temper of my grandfather was irascible and 
rather morose; but lie was always esteemed for Ins integrity. He was born in 
England, as was his wife; but before and during the troubles, as they were called, 
he sided with, and was considered an ultra whig. He remained in town during 
the whole time of the occupancy of it by the British, and, notwithstanding his 
politics, was well treated both by the governor and military men. 

"My grandmother has left a high character for piety, and great liberality to- 
ward all to whom she could afford aid, either in money or personal kindness, for 
both which there was a great demand during the blockade of Boston. My own 
mother lives in the memory of many now living; and the recollection of her 
many virtues is cherished by her descendants. One of the last conversations 
she had on any subject was the day previous to her death, with my wife; and in 
the course of it she repeated, what she had often before testified, her belief in the 
doctrine of universal salvation. Respectfully your obedient servant, 

**T. II. Perkins.' 7 
T. W. 



282 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



family of Mr. Peck, I passed a most delightful day. I re- 
lated to them the manner of my coming to the house of my 
patron, and I sketched for them the dealings of God with 
me since he had called me forth. They listened with silent 
astonishment ; and when I had finished they praised God 
in my behalf. They were evidently pained that I could 
not obtain a place in which to preach ; and they added, if 
no other could be procured, they would open their own 
doors for this purpose. There were in Boston, at this 
period, a few individuals who were immeasurably attached 
to the writings of Jacob Behmen. Those persons looked 
down with pity on all those they had left behind, who were 
such infidels as not to ascribe honor and glory to the in- 
spired pages of this writer. I could not forbear experi- 
encing great satisfaction from the consideration that Jesus 
Christ was made unto me wisdom. The adherents of 
Behmen enjoyed their philosophical divinity very highly, 
delighting to wrap themselves about in a mysterious gar- 
ment of unintelligible jargon. But thus it must ever be. 
Error will prevail until the appointed time of the Father 
shall usher the benighted mind into the clear shining of 
the full meridian of Divine Revelation. 

At the house of Major Paddock I met a member of Mr. 
Stillman's church, who seemed to conceive there would be 
little difficulty in overthrowing my plan ; to whom I ob- 
served, that if airy individual would unite with me in search- 
lug the Scriptures, I would, supposing there were not found 
in the book of God more positive assertions of final and 
universal redemption than of final reprobation, pledge my- 
self immediately to surrender my present soul-satisfying 
views. " No one," he replied, u could take pleasure in the 
destruction of mankind." — " Why, do not you, sir?" — 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



283 



" No, sir." — " Wh3 T , sir ? " — "I wonder you should ask such 
a question." — " Wiry, sir, why should you not take pleasure 
in that in which God takes pleasure?" — "God does not 
take pleasure in destruction, sir." — " What, sir, and make 
individuals on purpose to destroy them ? and almighty too, 
— ruling in heaven above and in earth beneath, as seemeth 
in his sight good ? Do you dare say, if } r ou had power, no 
fellow-creature should be lost ; and dare you suppose that 
He who hath all power, both in heaven and in earth, hath 
not so much love as you, a finite being? Will he say to 
you, ' Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, 
and pray for those who despitefully use j^ou,' — and will 
he not do likewise ? Shall the disciple be above his Master, 
and the servant above his Lord ? " He answered with a sigh, 
*' I cannot argue with you, sir ; that last observation has 
weight." — " Ah, sir ! " I continued, u would that every indi- 
vidual were more intimately acquainted with that most ele- 
vating subject, the love of God to man, the never-beginning, 
never-ending love of God to man. This, sir, is a species 
of knowledge which doth not puff up ; but it lifts up as on 
eagles' wings, ever mounting, never tiring, but still dis- 
covering new wonders through the wasteless ages of eter- 
nity. But man, poor fallen man, who in his present state 
is enmity against God, is ever measuring the love and com- 
passion of Deity by his own scanty rule ; na} r ,by a rule which 
he would blush to acknowledge. I have frequently said that 
there is not a person of character upon this continent who 
would bear to be delineated, whatever character he sustains, 
as he thinks and speaks of the Most High. What father 
would choose to be supposed deficient in providing, to the 
extent of his power, every requisite aid to the beings he 
has been instrumental in introducing into existence? It is 



284 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



confessed by all that God is Almighty, that he is a sover- 
eign, that he can do, and will do, as he pleases, and that no 
power can resist his will. It is also said that he willeth 
not the death, the eternal death of the sinner ; that he will- 
eth that man should be saved ; that he hath appointed, and 
therefore sends out his servants to warn mankind, to call 
them to eternal blessedness, to persuade them to come ; 
that all things are now ready. All this looks like love in 
God. But we are informed, the people called have no 
knowledge of God ; that they are enmity against God, and 
that not from a persuasion that God was in Christ, recon- 
ciling them to himself, but because they do not know this, 
and therefore do not believe it ; that no man can come 
unto the Father but by Jesus; that no man can come 
unto Jesus except the Father draw him ; and that all who 
learn of the Father come unto Jesus ; and ail who come 
unto him he will in no wise east out. Are multitudes cast 
out forever? Then it is because they were not taught 
of God ; for if they had learned of the Father they would 
have come unto Jesus, and he would in no wise have cast 
them out. But did God attempt to teach them, and, finding- 
it beyond his power, did he finally give them up? But is 
not God almighty ? Yes ; but he did not choose to stretch 
forth his omnipotent arm. Why? Because if he had they 
must be saved, and he would leave them, to the freedom of 
their own will. Did he not know the consequence would 
be their eternal damnation? Oh, yes, but this is perfectly 
right ; for when he called they would not hear. Did he in- 
tend they should hear? We have nothing to do with that. 
Merciful God ! lift up the light of thy irradiating counte- 
nance upon the benighted family of man." 

Upon the evening of October 30, 1773, 1 preached for 




LIFE OF REV. JO JIN MURRAY. 



285 



the first time in Boston, in the hall of the factory.* My 
hearers were attentive, and, after I had closed, several in- 
dividuals addressed me, and with apparent kindness in- 
vited me to visit them at their houses. On the succeeding 
evening (Sunday) I again preached in the hall ; the con- 
gregation was too large for the place. My subject was 
Zechariah ix. 9. The people were more affectionate than 
on the preceding evening. Many solicited me to tarry, 
and assured me that a better place should be provided for 
in}- accommodation. On Monday evening, November 1st, 
I preached to a select number at Mr. Peck's, who seemed 
to have the power of God among them. In consequence 
of a pressing solicitation from this gentleman, I took up 
my lodging in his hospitable mansion ; thus goodness and 
mercy continually followed me. From my beloved friend 
Binney, I received repeated and affectionate letters, and I 
trusted this young gentleman would become an able advo- 
cate for the Redeemer. 

A Mr. Little, of Newbuiyport, united his earnest solicita- 
tions with a number of gentlemen, who importunately 
urged me to visit that place. I dared not refuse ; and, 
parting with my affectionate friends in Boston, I accom- 
panied Mr. Little and others in the stage for Newburyport. 
On our arrival, inquiries were made at the coach-side, if I 
was there ; and, on being answered in the affirmative, a 
crowd collected. Mr. Parsons, the Presb3 T terian minister, 
a venerable-looking gentleman, immediately visited me and 
asked me many- questions. Where I came from? what 
clergymen I was acquainted with? and what credentials I 
could produce? During his inquiries he discovered, as it 

*This was a large building, I understand, opposite the site where Park Street 
Church now stands. — T. W. 



286 



LIFE OF JIFF. JOHN MURRAY. 



appeared to me, some uneasiness at the idea of my preach- 
ing in his pulpit. I therefore hastened to inform him that 
I was no priest, nor approved of by gentlemen of that 
order ; that I professed myself somewhat acquainted with 
the salvation wrought out by Jesus Christ, and that, wher- 
ever his providence called me, I was willing to speak well 
of the name of the Redeemer ; but I added that I had 
great reluctance in speaking in any place in opposition to 
the wishes of the officiating minister. Mr. Parsons re- 
plied, " The house was not his ; it was the property of the 
people, and when it w T as not occupied they had an indubi- 
table right to invite whom they pleased." Speaking of my 
call to preach, whether ordinary or extraordinary, I observed 
I had both ; when he petulantly asked, " Pray, can you 
speak with tongues?" — "It is possible I may, sir, with 
tongues that you may not understand. However, your 
question is as much against you as against me. Jesus 
says, among the many signs that shall follow those who be- 
lieve, they shall heal the sick by laying hands upon them, 
and if they take up any deadly thing it shall not hurt 
them. From these evidences, sir, perhaps it would be as 
hard for you to prove yourself even a believer, as for me 
to prove myself a preacher sent of God." 

While we were yet conversing, the bell was rung, and a 
large congregation assembled, among which Mr. Parsons 
himself attended ; and I selected for my subject, Isaiah lv. 
10, 11. Agreeably to his earnest request, Mr. Little was 
my host; and upon the ensuing morning; (Saturday), in 
consequence of a very polite invitation, I breakfasted with 
Mr. Parsons, and I was received by him and his very cor- 
dially ; his countenance brightened upon me, and he re- 
quested me to preach again in his church on that da}\ Nor 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 287 

was this all ; he walked with me to the pulpit, and sat with 
me there, while I preached, preparatory to the communion, 
upon John xv. 12. On the ensuing day (Sunday), by the 
request of Mr. Marsh, who was indisposed, I preached, 
both morning and evening at his church. Several 
friends visited me at Mr. Little's, and we closed the day 
with prayer. I was rather surprised to learn that I lodged 
at Mr. Little's upon the very same bed in which Mr. White- 
field had reposed ; and that I had preached in the pulpit 
before which he was entombed. I continued in Newbury- 
port, passing my time most pleasantly a second Sunday. 
I preached morning and evening in the pulpit of Mr. 
Marsh. I gave frequent lectures there, and in the meeting- 
house of Mr. Parsons, who always sat in the pulpit with 
me, and frequently entertained me most hospitably at his 
house. His lady appeared to merit a rank among the most 
accomplished of women ; she was highly social, sentimental, 
and pleasant. The circle of my friends in Newburyport 
was very respectable. Upon a lecture-evening, after I had 
closed, an old, gray-headed man, a member of Mr. Parsons' 
church, quitting his seat, addressed the congregation, and 
in a loud voice said, " My friends, this is a servant of the 
living God, who is come from a far countiy, to proclaim 
the glad tidings of salvation. We have too long been in 
darkness ; yea, our tongues have cleaved to the roofs of 
our mouths, and this man is sent to animate and renew our 
faith." Many blessed God they had seen and heard me ; 
and all this I imputed to a want of knowledge, relative to 
the extent of the glad tidings I promulgated. The grace, 
union, and membership upon which I expatiated, were 
admitted by every Calvinist, but admitted only for the 
elect; and when I repeated those glorious texts of Scripture, 



288 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MVRIiAY. 



which indisputably proclaim the redemption of the lost 
world, — as I did not expressly say, My brethren, I 
receive these texts in the unlimited sense in which they 
are given, — they were not apprised that I did not read 
them with the same contracted views to which they had 
been accustomed. When they became assured of the mag- 
nitude and unbounded result which I ascribed to the birth, 
life, and death of the Eedeemer, their doors were fast 
closed against me. For myself, I was in unison with Mr. 
Relly, who supposed the gradual dawn of light would 
eventually prove more beneficial to mankind than the sudden 
burst of meridian day. Tims I was contented with pro- 
claiming the truth as it is in Jesus, in Scripture language 
onty, — leaving to my hearers deductions, comments, and 
applications. 

While I continued at Newburyport, numerous solicita- 
tions poured upon me from various quarters ; but, in haste 
to return to Philadelphia, I could only comply with the 
urgent importunities of several gentlemen from Portsmouth, 
to which place I jounced on the tenth of November, 1773. 
I was received at Portsmouth with most flattering marks 
of kindness. The pulpit of the separate minister, Mr. 
Drown, then recently deceased, was thrown open to me ; 
the congregations were large ; my adherents were truly re- 
spectable, and I was earnestly urged to take up my residence 
among them. The meeting-house of Mr. Drown being too 
small, I was invited into the pulpit of Dr. Langdon,* in 
which I preached, two clergymen occupying seats therein. 
In Portsmouth I received many marks of friendship. My 
necessities were sought out and removed ; and the name of 

*I have supplied Langdon for the initial. It was Rev. Samuel Langdon, 
D. D., afterwards president of Harvard College. — T. W. 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



289 



Clarkson, Morrison, Hart, and Drown, son of the deceased 
minister, were on that first visit among my most partial 
friends, I returned to Newburyport, accompanied by Mr. 
Morrison and Mr. Drown, and again delivered my testimo- 
ny in the pulpits of the Rev. Mr. Parsons and Mr. Marsh. 
Mr. Parsons requested I would write to him from Philadel- 
phia ; and on Wednesday, November 17th, T returned to 
Boston, where I learned that a spirit of inquiry was in 
operation among my friends ; that their Bibles were in their 
hands ; and that they were diligently employed in searching 
the Scriptures, to find whether these things were indeed so. 
Upon the evening of the eighteenth, I preached in the mansion 
of my venerable friend, Mr. Peck ; and I was distinguished 
by him and his lady with even parental kindness ; Mrs. 
Peck entreating me to inform my mother, that I had found 
in the New World a second maternal friend. It was upon 
this occasion that I audibty exclaimed, " O God ! thou 
hast still continued my God and my guide ; let me not 
forget to render praises unto thee." 

At the period of which I am speaking, there were in Boston 
a number of Deists who attended my labors. Their leader 
gave me frequent invitations to visit him. He summoned 
his friends, with whom he united in expressing his abhor- 
rence of the Apostle Paul. To this gentleman I dwelt 
upon the respectable proofs by which the authenticity of 
Scripture was supported, and I took leave to observe, that 
he must have received the character of Paul from his ene- 
mies ; that Paul was indubitably a learned man, brought up 
at the feet of Gamaliel ; that he was celebrated as an 
orator ; and that his morals were unimpeached. It was 
true, he was said to have advocated a most comfortless 
doctrine, — to have affirmed that a few were elected to 
19 



290 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



everlasting life ; while, by the same irreversible decree, 
countless millions were consigned to remediless and never- 
ending misery. " But," I added, " sirs, believe it not ; foiv 
verily, the doctrine that God was in Christ reconciling the 
world unto himself was uniformly proclaimed by our great 
apostle. The doctrine of election is questionless to be 
found in the pages of this evangelical writer ; but reproba- 
tion is not a necessary consequence of election, nor does it 
appear in the writings of the apostle to the Gentiles. A 
governor is elected by a commonwealth ; a council, senators, 
representatives are elected ; but are the people therefore 
consigned to perdition ? " Thus I went on, and my little 
audience with lifted hands exclaimed, "This plan is 
. wortlvy of a God; and we felicitate you, dear sir, as the 
ambassador of Deity." The hall of the factory, and the 
dwelling of my friend, being too small for the increasing 
congregation, Mr. Peck proposed I should publish a lecture 
in the meeting-house of Mr. Croswell,* of which he was 
the principal support. I at first declined this proposal ; 

* I have here supplied the name for the initial. This meeting-house, in the 
pulpit of which Mr. Murray was subsequently stoned, stood in School Street, on 
the lot next east of that on which the meeting-house of the " Second Universalist 
Society " now stands. Rev. Andrew Croswell was formerly the pastor of a church 
in Groton, Conn. He was Invited to remove to Boston, and take the charge of 
the Eleventh Congregational Church. They soon purchased the house in School 
Street, which had been formerly occupied by the French Protestants. Mr. Peck 
was one of the principal owners of the house, and supporters of Mr. Croswell ; 
and it was at Ms request and importunity that Mr. Murray preached there. Mr. 
C.'s society dwindled away ; he became blind, and died April 12, 1785, in the seven- 
ty-seventh year of his age. The society became extinct, and the meeting-house was 
sold to the Roman Catholics, who gathered a congregation about this time. They 
occupied it, we presume, until they removed to their new church in Franklin Place, 
since which it has been demolished. — Snow's Hist, of Boston, 1826, pp. 201, 
232, 240. 

Mr. Croswell was generally regarded as a highly bigoted and censorious divine. 
Hon. Benjamin Russell, for many years the editor of the " Boston Centinel," has 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



291 



but his repeated and earnest solicitations induced me to 
preach in Mr. Croswell's pulpit. In the hall of the factory 

- also, I again delivered my message ; and on Frida}', No- 
'-vember 26th, I preached at Faneuil Hall ; my subject, 

John viii. 36 : " If the Son, therefore, shall make you free, 
ye shall be free indeed." The principal gentlemen of the 
town were among my audience, who heard me with great 
seriousness. After lecture, many took me by the hand, 
and, urging me to return to them speedily, prayed in the 
warmest manner for my success as a gospel promulgator. 
This was the last night of my abode in Boston, on my first 
visit. I passed it at Mr. Peck's, accompanied by some 
friends, and we devoted it to scriptural investigations. 
My continuance in Boston was strongly urged ; but I was 
under the necessity of departing, and devotional prayers 
for my safety, success, and speedy return were reiterated, 

— such are my Credentials. I left Boston on Saturday, 
November 27th ; reaching Providence upon the evening of 
that day, where again and again I delivered my testimony 
in the pulpit of the Rev. Mr. Snow. Departing thence on 
the Tuesday following, accompanied by my dear young 

. friend, Mr. Binney, for East Greenwich, I met some very 

informed me that a poem was once sent him for publication in that paper, con- 
taining a description of every clergyman then preaching in Boston. One of them 
heard of it, and sent him a billet, requesting the privilege of perusing it ; whereupon 
it was loaned to him. lie read it, and found himself alluded to in favorable 
terms ; but as there was much severity in regard to certain individuals, and as it 
was written by one of his friends, he incurred the anger of Mr. Russell by burn- 
ing it. Croswell was described in the following manner : — 

" Sour, croaking Croswell, armed with fire and fury, 
Consigns to hell, without a judge or jury, 
All whom his ignorance is wont t'assail, 
For venturing beyond his narrow pale." 

T. W. 



292 



LIFE OF RET. JOHN MURRAY. 



clear friends, and, as iron sTiarpenetk iron, so was my coun- 
tenance brightened, and my spirit soothed and cheered. 

From this period, November 30th, until the elose of Jan- 
nary, 1774, when I reached my lodging-place at the house 
of my patron, I moved slowly on, preaching glad tidings in 
various places, friends and enemies still multiplying. At 
New London my opportunities of preaching were repeated, 
and the number of my treasures proportionably augmented. 
Hertell, Wliey, Trueman, — these were of the true circum- 
cision, who worshipped God in the spirit, rejoicing in Christ 
Jesus, and having no confidence in the flesh ; and my 
orisons were daily offered up to the God of all consolation, 
that the number of such genuine believers might be in- 
creased. I delight to dwell upon the days I have passed in 
!New London. Deshon, Wheat, Saltonstall, Fackwood, Law, 
Huntington, Champlin, Hubbard, etc., etc., very pleasant 
have ye been unto me. May the blessing of God descend 
upon }^our children y s children, to the latest generation ! 

One capital difficulty, which has encompassed me in my 
progress through this younger world, has been the extreme 
reluctance of inquirers to receive their answers in Scripture 
language. Standing alone, I have sought to wrap myself, 
or rather to intrench myself, in the sacred testimony of my 
God ; and for this I have been accused of prevarication, 
equivocation, and what not, merely because I have not 
generally chosen to garb my sentiments in my own words. 
For example : the interrogator commences with a great 
man} r compliments, and then follows, " Do you believe all 
men will finally be saved?" — "7 believe it is good and 
acceptable in tlie sight of God our Saviour, who will have all' 
men to be saved, and to come unto the knowledge of the truth." 
— " But do you yourself believe that all mankind will 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



293 



finally be saved?" — " God hath included all in unbelief 
that he may have mercy upon all" — " But will all be finally 
saved?" — " God hath spoken of the restitution of cdl things, 
by the mouth of all his holy prophets, since the ivorld began" 
— " But still you do not answer my question." — " Wiry, 
sir, for anything I know, the authors I have cited mean 
by their words precisely the same as I do. I adopt their 
language, because I conceive it expresses my own ideas 
better than any set of phrases I could press into my ser- 
vice." This mode, however, has rarely given satisfaction. 
Persons dare not, in an unqualified manner, deny the valid- 
ity of Scripture testimony. They can only assert, it does 
not mean as it speaks, and they earnestly repeat the ques- 
tion, " Do you believe," etc., etc. While my responses 
are drawn from the sacred streams flowing in the book of 
God, from Genesis to Revelation, still they importunately, 
sometimes clamorous!}', demand, "But do you take those 
Scriptures as they are spoken?" To which I can only 
reply, u I have no reason to believe that, by saying one 
thing, and meaning another, men, so upright, have formed a 
plan to deceive me." An attempt has then been made to 
prove the texts in question did not, could not, mean as they 
spake. To which I have answered, " Multitudes are on 
your side. Many have labored to prove God a liar ; but I 
have never yet heard any argument sufficiently potent to 
convince me that he is so." 

On the ninth of April in this year, I received from the 
church and congregation * in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, 

*This society afterwards settled Rev. Joseph Walton, who was ordained over 
them Sept. 22, 1789, and died in 1822, aged eighty. On the removal of Rev. 
Hosea Iiallou to Portsmouth, in 180'.), Mr. Walton entered into a controversy with 
him, in connection with Rev. Joseph Buckminster, two editions of which have 
been published. — T. W. 



294 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MTJRRA Y. 



worshipping in the separate meeting-house, a solemn and 
affectionate call, to take upon me the pastoral charge of 
that people ; but I was not then convinced I ought to* accept 
an establishment in any place. I passed the spring, and the 
early part of the summer, of 1774, in Pennsylvania, the 
Jerseys, and New York, with persons who had drank into- 
the same spirit with myself ; with my revered friend and 
father, with the Mounts and Pangburns of those happy 
days. Blessed be God, I have indeed enjoyed richly the 
consolations of friendship ! In Philadelphia I was present 
at the heart-rending trial of some malefactors, which re- 
sulted in their receiving sentence of death ; and I could 
not forbear exclaiming, " O Ar>AM, what east thou* 
done?'* My bosom swells to rapture upon the reflection 
that I had frequent opportunities of visiting those criminals,,- 
and of preaching to them peace, through the fountain 
opened in the side of the second Adam. The poor creatures- 
seemed much affected. The proclamation of the tender 
mercies of the Eedeemer was more effectual than all the 
terrors of Mount Sinai. Departing from New York, about 
the twentieth of July, I passed, by short stages, through Con- 
necticut and Khode Island, visiting my friends in various 
directions, and deriving inexpressible satisfaction from be- 
holding their order, their zeal, and the magnitude of their 
faith. On the sixteenth of August, the governor of Khode 
Island sent me a passage of Scripture, soliciting me to* 
take it for my subject. It may be found Mark xiv. 10. 
The governor attended, and, after I had closed, took my 
hand with much cordiality, and expressed himself well 
satisfied, and truly grateful. 

September 14, 1774, I again reached Boston. My 
friends had long been expecting me, and I was received 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



295 



with demonstrations of heart-felt joy. Through the great- 
est part of this autumn I continued preaching in the hall 
of the factory, in the mansion of my venerable friend, and 
at Faneuil Hall. Once I attempted to preach in Mason's 
Hall ; but the throng, and consequent confusion, were so 
great, that I was necessitated to desist even after I had 
worded my text ; and finally, the congregations still aug- 
menting, I yielded to the pressing solicitations of the pro- 
prietors of Mr. CroswelFs meeting-house, and repeatedly 
delivered my testimony there. On the thirty-first of 
October, a gentleman by the name of Sargent called upon 
me from Gloucester, urging me to accompany him to his 
place of residence. My engagements would not allow my 
immediate attendance, but I gave my word for an early 
compliance with his wishes, November 2d, Wednesday 
evening, I named as the subject of my public lecture, Luke 
xiii., from the twenty-fourth to the thirtieth. After I had 
closed, a clergyman,* of a respectable appearance, whom I 
had never before seen, ascended the stairs of the pulpit, 
and addressed the people to the following effect : " My 
friends, you have heard a great deal said (for what purpose 
I know not) which is calculated to lead you astray from 
the true meaning of the text. The passage refers to the 
general judgment, and to nothing else ; and all that has 
been said can only originate wrong ideas of the Scriptures ; 
for how can it be that the Jews should be intended b} r those 
who were shut out? When did the Jews see Abraham and 
Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of God ? Or how is it 
possible, that, if they should thus behold them, they could 
ever be happy? It is not possible that any who die in a 

* This, I am informed, was Rev. J. Bacon, pastor of the Old South Church, 
-T. W. 



296 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



state of unbelief should ever be happy to all eternity ; and 
therefore, my brethren, I would exhort you to take care 
you are not led astray b}' the words of man's wisdom, and 
the cunning craftiness of men, whereby they lie in wait to 
deceive. Oh ! it is very dangerous to give heed to such 
things." Thus the gentleman proceeded, earnestly warning 
the people, and then paused. Again I arose, saying, 
4 4 Now this is well ; I like this. How infinitely preferable 
to secret calumny ! No bush-fighting here. And, so much 
am I gratified with this ingenuous manner of dealing with 
me, that it is with extreme reluctance I find it necessary to 
dissent from him in opinion. Yet I must beg leave to 
observe, in the first place, the gentleman must assuredly 
be wrong, in supposing the passage in question refers to the 
general and filial judgment. Do but attend to the conclud- 
ing verse, ' There are last which shall be first, and first 
which shall be last.' Surely, the text would not be thus 
worded if the last judgment were designed. The parable 
of the ten virgins illustrates this passage." Then turning 
to the eleventh of Romans, I pointed out some particulars, 
which are generally passed unnoticed ; and when I read, 
4 4 for God hath included them all in unbelief, that he might 
have mercy upon all," my opponent, rising, looked over my 
shoulder, evidently to ascertain if I had given the genuine 
reading of the text ; upon which a lawyer in the assembly 
exclaimed, 44 1 advise you, sir, to retire and read your 
Bible." I begged we might not be interrupted ; and I 
affirmed that my antagonist was entitled to my cordial 
thanks, and that I devoutly wished his example might be 
generall}' influential. I then proceeded to show that it was 
possible an individual might pass out of time ignorant of 
God, and yet be taught of God in that great day when the 



LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURE AY. 



297 



books should be opened. I read the last part of the twenty- 
second Psalm, making a few remarks thereon ; and, after 
exhorting the audience to follow the example of the Bereans, 
I paused for a reply. The gentleman affirmed I had given 
an erroneous view of the parable of the ten virgins ; that it 
pointed out the visible church ; and that the foolish virgins 
were the Irypocrites ; and he admonished the people to 
beware of false teachers, etc., etc. To which I replied, by 
presuming the gentleman did not recollect that the foolish 
virgins seemed to be equally a part of the kingdom of heaven 
with the wise virgins, otherwise he would not so liberally 
consign them to the devil. He would have us believe the 
kingdom of heaven is the visible church. Such are the 
sentiments of his Holiness at Eome ; but, having abjured 
one Pope, I trusted we should not again be brought into 
subjection to principles, the propriety of which our hearts 
refused to acknowledge. 

November 3d, I repaired to Gloucester, and was re- 
ceived by a few very w arm-hearted Christians. The mansion- 
house, the heart of the then head of the Sargent familv, 
with his highly accomplished, and most exemplary lady, 
were open to receive me. I had travelled from Maryland 
to New Hampshire without meeting a single individual 
who appeared to have the smallest idea of what I esteemed 
the truth as it is in Jesus ; but, to my great astonishment, 
there were a few persons, dwellers in that remote place, 
upon whom the light of the gospel had more than dawned. 
The writings of Mr. Relly were not only in their hands, 
but in their hearts. Four years previous to this period, an 
Englishman, a Mr. Gregory, had brought with him those 
obnoxious pages, and loaned them to this small circle of 
Gioucesterians, by whom they had been seized with avidity ; 



298 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



the Father of their spirits rendered them luminous to their 
understandings ; and it was in consequence of their admi- 
ration of Mr. Relly, that, observing in the papers of the 
day an individual malignantly arraigned as a preacher of 
Kelly's gospel, they delayed not to despatch earnest solici- 
tations for my presence among them. In Gloucester, 
therefore, I passed my time most agreeably, until Novem- 
ber 12th. The clergyman of the principal meeting-house 
being confined by illness, I was visited by the deacons 
and elders of his church, and by them conducted to his 
house, after which I obtained permission to preach in his 
pulpit, which I several times did ; my subjects, 1 
Cor. xi. 26; the good Samaritan; Isaiah xxviii. 16, 
etc. Every day and every evening was appropriated to 
the expounding of the Scriptures , in the spacious and well- 
filled parlor of my new and highly respectable friend ; and 
I had reason to believe that God most graciously crowned 
my labors in this place by giving to some brighter views, 
and inducing others to search the Scriptures for themselves. 
Every morning commenced, and every day closed, with 
prayer ; and with glad hearts we delighted to hymn the 
praises of a redeeming God. Taking a most affectionate 
leave of those very dear friends on Saturday morning, ac- 
companied by Mr. Sargent, I returned to Boston. Upon 
the evenings of Sunday and Wednesday I again occupied 
the pulpit of Mr. Croswell, and upon the evening of 
"Wednesday the audience were incommoded by a profusion 
of water thrown over them, and an egg was aimed at me in 
the pulpit, which, however, happened to miss me. On 
Thursday a piece of slander was published in the paper of 
the day, over the signature of Mr. Croswell. He had be- 
fore declared he would print no more in the newspaper ; 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



299 



so had I ; but, although he had forfeited his word, I did not 
think proper to follow his example, and I therefore ad- 
dressed the followiug letter to his private ear : — 

" Sir : Some time since, being under the disagreeable necessity of replying to 
a dull repetition of your abusive slanders, and being persuaded, right or wrong, 
you would have the last word, I assured the public I would write no more in 
newspapers. So did you. But your brilliant example shall never influence me to 
undertake the vindication of my veracity, by convincing the world I can lie. 
But, as in the close of your last performance, you informed me and the public, 
that if I thought myself wronged, what had been asserted should be proved to 
my face, before as large an auditory as I pleased, I now, sir, take leave to say, I 
do think myself most cruelly wronged, and I should rejoice in an opportunity 
of vindicating myself at the bar of the impartial public; yes, I should rejoice to 
see a very large audience collected; but, as I suppose we shall not be able to 
procure any place but the meeting-house in School Street, I shall expect, if you 
be an honest man, to meet you there. You commend a certain gentleman, who 
recently spoke to me in that house. So do I. He did not, like Solomon's fool, 
cast about firebrands, arrows, and death, and say, 'Am I not in sport?' he 
spake above-board, fair and openly. I should be glad if you would come and do 
likewise— only I request you will let me know in writing, by the bearer, when 
you will do this piece of common justice, to the cruelly and most unwarrantably 
treated "John Murray." 

This letter enraged him, and he sent it back, declaring 
he would have nothing to do with me. But on the follow- 
ing Sunday evening, when I repaired as usual to the meet- 
ing-house to preach, Mr. Croswell was upon the stairs of 
the pulpit, with a number of his violent adherents, for the 
purpose of barring me out. Making no resistance, I re- 
quested the gentleman might be heard with patient atten- 
tion ; and, silence being obtained, Mr. Croswell entered the 
pulpit, and declaimed for a long time with great bitterness ; 
accusing me of preaching damnable doctrines, though he 
had never heard me preach, but so he had been informed ; 
asserting that I was one of Relly's followers, and Relly 
believed all mankind would be saved ; and Relly was a 
blasphemer, and denied the atonement ; and I was a Deist, 



300 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



and it was dangerous to allow me to speak ; for I said 
once, in his hearing, that God loved the devil's children ; 
and then, raising his voice, he vociferated, " It is a lie, a 
lie, a lie ; it is a damnable lie ! " Thus he went on, alter- 
nately crying out against me and against Mr. EeMy, 
damning my preaching and his writings, and exhorting the 
people to avoid me, etc., etc. When he had concluded, he 
quitted the pulpit, and was passing out of the house as 
speedily as possible. I requested him to stop ; but, ob- 
serving he was rapidly departing, I urged the people to 
give me an opportunity of having justice done me, by de- 
taining my accusing adversary that I might defend myself 
in his presence ; and Mr. Croswell was accordingly led 
into a pew. I informed the audience that I did indeed 
labor under great difficult}'. The person to whom I was 
about to repty was an old gentleman and a clergyman, 
both of which characters were indubitably entitled to re- 
spect. Yet truth was, in my opinion, abundantly superior 
to every other consideration ; it was be} T ond all price ; a 
gem with which its possessor should never part. I should 
therefore take leave to say Mr. Croswell was very right 
and very wrong, — right in condemning damnable doctrines ; 
wrong in charging me with preaching those doctrines. Mr. 
Croswell, I said, reminded me of Nero, who, to be re- 
venged upon the Christians, set the city of Rome on fire, 
and charged the Christians with that atrocious deed. 

Mr. Croswell had dressed me in a bear's skin, and then 
set the dogs at me. " He affirms that I preach damnable 
doctrines. Surfer me to ask, What are the damnable doc- 
trines? Peter says, 'There shall arise false teachers 
among you, as there were false prophets among the people, 
who shall privily bring in damnable doctrines, even deny- 



LIFE OF REV* JOHN MURRAY, 



301 



ing the Lord, who bought tJiem.' I appeal to this audience. 
Did I ever deny the Lord who bought you. ? On the con- 
trary, have I not borne constant testimony to this pur- 
chase ? Did you ever hear me say, it made no difference 
whether a man lived a good or a bad life ; was a believer or 
an unbeliever? Surely, it is highly inconsistent to rank 
me with the Deist, who utterly disowns the Redeemer, 
when I am arraigned at this bar for believing there is no 
God out of Christ, and that He who is God our Saviour 
is all arid in all. Mr. Relly* is three thousand miles from 
this metropolis ; Mr. Croswell has neither seen nor heard 
him. Blasphenry, of which Mr. Croswell accuses him, is no- 
where to be found in his writings. These writings, give 
me leave to say, will live, and be held in admiration, when 
ten thousand such characters as Mr. CroswelPs and mine 
will be consigned to oblivion." Thus I went on. Mr. Cros- 
well again advanced to the pulpit ; reiterated what he had 
before asserted, without regarding a syllable which I had 
uttered, until at length he interrogated, "Does God love 
all the people in the world as well as Peter and Paul?" 

— M Suffer me, sir, first to ask you one question, which, if 
j-ou will answer, then I will reply to yours. Did God love 
Peter and Paul as well before they believed as afterwards?" 

— " God loved Peter and Paul from the foundation of the 
world." Again and again I repeated my question, but 
could not obtain a direct answer. The people from the 
galleries called out, "Why do you not say yes, or no?" — 
but he refused thus to commit himself, and of course I 
dropped the inquiry. Again he returned to the charge. 

* As this is the last notice the reader will find of the Rev. James Kelly, it is 
proper to say he died in the full faith of the doctrine he had preached, some- 
where we believe about 1783. Mr. Murray was sensibly affected with the intelli- 
gence of his death. — T. W. 



302 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



"Does God love all the people in the world as well as 
Peter and Paul? " — " Yes, sir, I believe he does, as well 
as he loved those apostles before they believed." — " Do 
you believe God loves all the people in the world?" — 
" Yes, sir, I do." Then, again, he proceeded most violently, 
and, that the heresy might be confirmed, he once more 
questioned, " Do you believe that God loves the devil's 
children as well as his own beloved ones ? " — " No, indeed ; 
I do not think God loves any of the devil's children." — 
u There, there, now he is hiding again." — " Suffer me, sir, 
to ask, "What is it constitutes the character of the wicked 
man ? " — " That is nothing to the purpose." 

"Again I ask, What is it constitutes the character of 
the wicked man?" Here several individuals tremulously 
asked, " Why do you not answer the question? We are all 
concerned in it ; we are seeking information." — " Suppose 
I cannot ; let some one else answer, and, if I like it, I will 
agree to it." No answer was given, and Mr. Croswell re- 
sumed his declamation, affirming I had said God loved 
the devil's children. I denied the charge, and was again 
accused of hiding, when I besought the attention of the 
people, while I explained myself.- " What are we to under- 
stand by a father and a child, but the begetter and begot- 
ten? Canj'ou, Mr. Croswell, or can any one present, pre- 
sume to say, that the bodies, or the souls, of mankind were 
begotten by the devil? Is not God the Father of the 
spirits of all flesh? Is not God the Maker of our frames? 
and doth not the apostle say, we arc all his offspring? If 
it be confessed we all died in Adam, we were of course in 
Adam ; and if we were in Adam, we were what Adam was. 
But the Evangelist Luke affirms that Adam was the son of 
God. We will next inquire, Who are the children of the 



LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 303 

devil, and who are the children of God ? I humbly con- 
ceive, Christ Jesus himself has put the matter beyond dis- 
pute in the ever-memorable parable of the tares of the 
field, and our obligation to the Redeemer for explaining it 
so clearly to his disciples is indeed immeasurable." I then 
repeated the parable, and the explanation ; and proved 
from thence, that the abominations of the earth were chil- 
dren of the devil, because produced by him ; that the iniqui- 
ties of the people were the tares sowed by the adversary ; 
that our nature was the good seed which Jesus sowed. A 
holy God could not love sin, and, of course, could love no 
child of the devil ; but men being his offspring, he once 
loved them as his own, and, having loved his own, he loved 
them unto the end ; that he had proved this to all men, in 
the gift of his Son ; God so loved the world, that he gave 
them his Son. Mr. Croswell interrupted : " Nine-tenths 
of all you have said is nothing at all to the purpose ; " and 
again, in terms the most violent, he renewed his accusation, 
that I was all the time hiding. A voice from the gallery 
exclaimed, " If he be hiding, why do you not hunt him out 
of the bush?" 

Mr. Croswell at length tauntingly said, u Come, come, 
leave off hiding, and tell the people, in plain English, that 
God loves them all." To which I answered, " I will, sir, 
in as plain English as I can command ;" and then, address- 
ing the congregation, I thus delivered the genuine senti- 
ments of my soul. " I am commissioned to say to every in- 
dividual before me, that God loves you, and that you are 
not to accept this declaration upon my bare word ; you 
have the word of a God, who cannot lie; who proclaims 
himself loving unto every man ; who has given you 
proof positive of his love. His love has been greatly 



304 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



manifested in your birth ; in rearing you from infancy ; 
in guarding you through the devious paths of child- 
hood and youth, and preserving you from ten thousand 
dangers to which you have been exposed. His gracious 
providence, in so plentifully providing for you, is a proof 
of his love. Your civil and religious liberties are blessed 
proofs of the love of your God. These particulars an- 
nounce the love of Deity to every individual, as a Creator 
and Preserver. Yet these manifestations may be con- 
sidered as merely temporal ; but, blessed be the holy name 
of Jehovah ! I am authorized to add, and in plain English 
too, that God loves the soul, which emanates from himself, 
and that he has proved this love by the gift of his Son. 
God so loved the ivorld that he gave them his Son. To us 
a child is born, to us a son is given. God has evinced his 
love, by giving us, in this Son, reconciliation, regeneration, 
a new head, a new heart, a right spirit. Here your Crea- 
tor so loved you, as to give you wisdom, righteousness, sanc- 
tification, and redemption. In Christ Jesus, God has so 
loved you, as to bless you with all spiritual blessings. 
Every Individual should believe this, since it is nothing 
more than an accomplishment of the promise, of the oath 
of Jehc i ah, which he sware unto Abraham, saying, 4 And 
in thy i^.ed shall all the nations, all the families of the earth 
be blessed. 9 Such are the glad tidings, which the God who 
loved j >u before the foundation of the world hath com- 
manded us to proclaim to every one of you ; such are the 
glad ti ings which you ought to believe. If your heart 
tell you it is not so, believe it not, it is an unbelieving 
heart ; he that trusteth such a heart is a fool. If the devil 
tell you it is not so, believe him not, he was a liar from 
the beginning. If your ministers tell you you ought not 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



805 



to believe this good report, trust them not ; they take part 
with the devil, and your unbelieving hearts. The devil 
would persuade you not to believe the glorious truths, be- 
cause, if you were delivered from his usurpation, you would 
henceforward serve your Creator without fear. The arch- 
fiend is solicitous to retain you in bondage. His utmost 
efforts are in requisition to prevent you from believing 
that God has so loved you as to purchase you with the 
price of blood, of the precious blood of the Lamb of God. 
He would prevent you from believing that you are bought 
with such a price, lest, thus believing, you should render 
yourselves living sacrifices, holy, and acceptable to God. 
But, 4 let God be true, and every man a liar.' i Ye are not 
your own, ye are bought with a price,' and ' the love of 
Christ constraineth us, because we thus judge, If one died 
for all, then were all dead; and that he died for all, that 
they who live should not henceforth live unto themselves, 
hut unto him, who died for them, and rose again.'' " 

All the time I was speaking, Mr. Croswell was kicking 
my legs, or pulling the skirts of my garment, ever and anon 
vociferating, " Have done, have done ; 3^011 have said 
enough ; quite enough," etc. etc. Sometimes he stood up 
close to my side, shouldering me as hard as he wa> able. 
The congregation noticed his behavior, and it md not 
give them pleasure. For myself, I had much cause c " grati- 
tude to my divine Master : first, that he was pie? sed to 
give me words ; and, secondty, that he did not suffei me to 
lose my self-command. No, not for an instant. Messed 
be the name of the Lord ! 

My next evening lecture was uninterrupted ; but, on the 
succeeding Sunday evening, the throng was so prodigious 
that it was with much difficulty I reached the pulpit ; and 
20 



306 



LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 



when I entered, I was nearly suffocated b}^ the strong efflu- 
via, arising from the asafcetida with which the tools of the 
adversary had wet the pulpit and the pulpit cloth, plenti- 
fully sprinkling the whole house with the same noxious 
drug. For some moments I was so much overpowered, as 
to induce an apprehension that it would be impossible I 
should proceed ; but the God of my life was abundantly 
sufficient for me. The demons of confusion were, however, 
not quite satisfied ; many stones were violently thrown 
into the windows ; yet no one received any other injury 
than the alarm which was created. At length, a large 
rugged stone, weighing about a pound and a half, was for- 
cibly thrown in at the window behind my back ; it missed 
me. Had it sped, as it was aimed, it muse have killed me. 
Lifting it up, and waving it in the view of the people, I ob- 
served, "This argument is solid, and iveighty, but it is 
neither rational, nor convincing." Exclamations from vari- 
ous parts of the house were echoed and re-echoed : " Pray, 
sir, leave the pulpit, your life is at hazard/' — " Be it so," I 
returned; "the debt of nature must be paid, audi am as 
ready, and as willing, to discharge it now, as I shall be fifty 
years hence. Yet, for your consolation, suffer me to sslj, I 
am immortal while He who called me into existence has 
any business for me to perform ; and when He has executed 
those purposes for which He designed me, He will graciously 
sign my passport to realms of blessedness. With your 
good leave, then, I pursue my subject, and while I have a 
Thus saith the Lord for every point of doctrine which I 
advance, not all the stones in Boston, except they stop my 
breath, shall shut my mouth, or arrest my testimony." The 
congregation was, as I have said, astonishingly large ; but 
order and silence were gradually restored, and I had un- 



LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 



307 



common freedom in the illustration and defence of those 
sacred truths which will be ultimately triumphant. Two 
or three succeeding lecture evenings were unmolested, when 
the business of stoning me in the pulpit was again re- 
sumed. My friends were in terror, and, after I had closed, 
forming a strong phalanx around me, they attended me 
home. Many religious people were violent in their opposi- 
tion ; the}' insisted that I merited the severest punishment ; 
that the old discipline for heretics ought to be put in force ; 
and I was thus furnished with abundant reason to bless 
God for the religious liberty of the country of my adoption, 
else racks and tortures would have been put in operation 
against me, nor would these holy men, moved by the 
Spirit, have stopped short of my destruction. Yet was the 
charge of heresy never proved against me. I was never 
silenced either by reason or Scripture. I had called upon 
men every where, clergymen, or laymen, to step forward, 
and convict me of error ; promising, immediately upon con- 
viction, to relinquish the obnoxious tenet, whatever it might 
chance to be, and to adopt that better wa}-, which would, 
in such an event, become luminous before me. Truth and 
gratitude originate the confession, that, in all circumstan- 
ces, I have hitherto had reason to bless the God of my life, 
who hath promised he will be with me to the end of the 
world, and that all things shall work together for good. 
Amen, and amen. 



LIFE 

or 

REV. JOHN MURRAY. 

\_GON TINUED.~] 



CHAPTER VII. 



SUMMARY RECORD OF EVENTS, FROM JANUARY, 1775, TO 

OCTOBER, 1809. 

Amid the haunts of memory let me stray, 
As duty, love, and friendship, point the way; 
"With hand of diligence, and humid eye, 
The faithful record tearfully supply. 

Would the beloved preacher had continued his narra- 
tive ! The editor, fondly calculating upon assistance which 
she believed herself authorized to expect, pledged herself 
to continue the sketch, even to the closing scene. But, 
alas ! disappointed in her cherished hopes she stands alone. 
Her health is broken, her spirits are depressed, and she is 
advanced in life ; j^ea, doubtless, she is inadequate to the 
performance of her promise. But she remembers that this 
volume is addressed onty to the friends of the dear departed, 
and she mournfully proceeds to its completion. 

Upon December 14, 1774, Mr. Murray again visited 
Gloucester. The numerous family of the Sargents then 
seated in that place embraced, in almost all its branches, 
the truth as it is in Jesus, and their attachment to him, 
whom they believed an ambassador of the Redeemer, was 
proportioned to their zeal. Many respectable names were 
added, and a little congregation was collected, who seemed 
to have among them but one heart and one soul. Like the 
primitive Christians, they assembled daity, and they con- 
tinued from house to house worshipping the only true God 

311 



312 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



their Saviour. On recurrence to the journal of the preacher 
we find a memorandum, written upon his second visit to 
Gloucester, which is thus worded : " Here my God grants 
me rest from my toils ; here I have a taste of heaven. The 
new song is sung here, and worthy is the Lamb constantly 
dwells upon their tongues." Mr. Chandler's meeting-house 
was not closed against the promulgator of glad tidings, 
until some time in January, 1775, upon the twentieth of 
which month he made a second journey to Newburyport 
and Portsmouth. Those who adhered to him in those 
towns, having ascertained that he absolutely believed the 
final restitution of all things, united with the many in the 
most unqualified censure. But the friends he had lost, par- 
ticularly in Portsmouth, were replaced by many others, 
among whom we find the names of Judge and Sheriff Par- 
ker, Atkinson, Wentworth, Austin, Warner, Sheafe, Lang- 
don, Sewall, Brackett, Whipple, Thompson, Turner, Gard- 
ner, Massey, Jackson, etc., etc. The heaven-instructed 
preacher continued many years an occasional visitor in 
Portsmouth, where his labors were greatly blessed ; and 
when other pulpits were closed against him in that metrop- 
olis, the doors of the Episcopal Church were open for his 
reception. But after he had repeatedly lectured in that 
church, a few persons appeared in opposition, and we have 
this moment, under our eye, an original writing, addressed 
to the promulgator upon this occasion. We transcribe a 
verbatim copy : " Whereas it is represented that some ob- 
jections have been made by one or more persons, belonging 
to the Church called Queen's Chapel, against the doors 
thereof being opened for the admission of Mr. John Murray 
to preach the gospel ; Wherefore, we the subscribers, pro- 
prietors, and parishioners of the church aforesaid, having 



LIFE OF REV. JO JIN MURRAY. 



313 



taken the same into consideration — Do (in order to re- 
move any difficulties that might arise in that gentleman's 
breast in consequence of such objections) hereby fully de- 
clare our free will and consent, that the said Church be 
open at all times, whenever it m&y be convenient for him 
to perform divine service in town, more especialty during 
his present stay ; and, instead of deeming it an indulgence 
granted him, we shall, on the contrary, acknowledge it a 
favor conferred on us, in his acceptance of this invitation. 
Portsmouth, May 24, 1781." Signed by twenty-four of 
the leading members of the church in Portsmouth. Our 
preacher was also made the instrument of irradiating the 
mind of an exemplary philanthropist, Mr. Noah Parker, 
now in regions of blessedness, who was so deeply penetrated, 
as to present himself a servant of the living God, a volun- 
tary preacher of the gospel. A convenient house was 
raised for his use, by the brethren in Portsmouth, and he 
continued, until his departure out of time, a zealous and 
able minister of the reconciliation. 

Attached to the Gloucesterians, Mr.- Murray once more 
believed he had found a permanent residence ; }'et, although 
he consented to consider that place as his home, he did 
not relinquish the persuasion that his commission obliged 
him to go forth a preacher of the gospel, wherever and 
whenever the providence of God might seem to direct him. 
The inveterac}^ of his enemies in the town of Gloucester 
was in full proportion to the attachment of his friends, and 
every means of annoyance was in requisition. The spirit 
of liberty mounted very high in Gloucester, and for the 
purpose of influencing the ignorant, the teacher was pro- 
claimed a papist, sent out by Lord North to aid the pur- 
pose of an obnoxious ministry. Anathemas, and sometimes 



314 



LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRA Y. 



stones, followed his steps as he passed the streets. A 
town-meeting was called, the aim of which (lest the friends 
of the promulgator should take the alarm) was most ille- 
gally shrouded in silence, and a vote was thus surrepti- 
tiously obtained that he should forthwith depart from the 
borders of Gloucester. Of this vote he was advertised by 
an officer — let us not say of justice. Still, however, he 
continued witnessing both to small and great, what Moses 
and the prophets had testified concerning Jesus of Naz- 
areth, that he died for our sins, and rose again for our 
justification. The most unwarrantable means were em- 
ployed ; old slanders were resuscitated, and new accusa- 
tions brought forward ; tales, which had been repeatedly 
confuted, were new garbed and sent abroad, swelling the 
bosom of integrity with unutterable anguish. Among 
countless other calumnies which were afloat, a story was 
embellished and published, originally propagated by one 
Maxwell, wherein the preacher, the lover of the Redeemer, 
is represented as treating the Eucharist in a ludicrous 
manner! although the gentleman — Mr., afterwards Gen- 
eral, Greene — at whose house, and in whose presence, the 
irreverent profanation was said to have taken place, had 
written to Doctor S , and others, completel}' exoner- 
ating the accused. Mr. Murray's sentiments upon the 
sacred and consolatory ordinance of the Lord's Supper 
are explained and expatiated upon in his " Letters and 
Sketches of Sermons," to which the interested reader is 
referred. It cannot be denied, that characters generally 
respectable combined to stimulate the mob to the most des- 
perate measures ; but every unwarrantable project was frus- 
trated. The doors of the meeting-house being now closed, 
the parlors of respectable friends became the places of 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



315 



assembling, until at length a spacious room was consecrated 
for that purpose. Letters of excommunication were now 
addressed, by the established minister, to seventeen of the 
most respectable church-members, and this, for their at- 
tachment to the gospel of God our Saviour, while others, 
availing themselves of a provincial law, endeavored to 
expel the ambassador of their God as a vagrant ; to meet 
and obviate which difficulty, the kind friend under whose 
especial patronage he then was, presented him with a deed 
of gift, which constituted him a freeholder in Gloucester. 
The months of March and April, in this year, were by the 
preacher devoted to visiting his friends in Boston, and 
various parts of Rhode Island, and toward the close of 
April he returned to his highly favored home, rejoicing 
that the zeal and attachment of the Gloucesterians were 
nothing diminished, and their meetings for scriptural in- 
vestigations were joyfully resumed. In the month of May, 
1775, the leading officers of the Rhode Island Brigade, 
assembled in the neighborhood of Boston, despatched a 
respectable messenger, with a letter soliciting the attend- 
ance of the promulgator, as chaplain * to their detachment 
of the Revolutionary Army. 

A persuasion that he could be of more use in the army 
than elsewhere would not allow the preacher to balance, 

* It is not difficult to see the cause of Mr. Murray's appointment to this office. 
In his journeys through Rhode Island he had become intimately acquainted with 
several of the officers, particularly Mr., afterwards General, Greene, who through 
the whole war held so high a rank in the affection and confidence of the com- 
mander-in-chief, and who w r as regarded as second only to him in patriotism, 
stability, prudence, and military skill. His previous acquaintance with the first 
officers of the Rhode Island Brigade was the unquestionable cause of his ap- 
pointment. Evans, in his " Sketch of the Christian Sects," and Southey, in his 
" Life of Wesley," have both erred, in stating that Mr. Murray was chaplain to 
Gen. Washington. He was chaplain only to the Rhode Island Brigade. — T. W. 



316 



LIFE OF JIEV. JOHN MURRAY. 



and, accordingly resigning the calm recess of friendship, he 
presented himself in the American camp, and, " armed with 
the sword of Jesse's 3 T outhful son," he was indeed most 
ardently engaged. The scene, however, was not calculated 
to give pleasure to a philanthropist. In a memorandum 
of this elate, he thus expresses himself : " My troubles have 
recommenced. I am now indeed in the world, and shall 
doubtless encounter tribulation. I am associated with an 
ungovernable set of people. It is true, the officers are 
gentlemen, and call into action every effort to strengthen 
my hands ; but the soldier — alas ! the fact is, I am not in 
my own company." 

Upon the third of July the chaplain accompanied a 
detachment of the brigade, to compliment General Wash- 
ington upon his arrival to take the supreme command of 
the army at Cambridge ; and he was received by the immor- 
tal chief with that urbanity which he so well knew how to 
practise. The subject of the first sermon, preached on 
Sabbath morning at the camp, Jamaica Plains, was Psalm 
xliv. 1, 2, 3, and upon the evening of the same day, the 
last verse of the same psalm. The preacher was engaged 
occasionally at Jamaica Plains, and on Prospect Hill. 
Every morning at seven o'clock he met the several regi- 
ments upon the parade. Gradually the habits of swearing 
and the rough manners of the soldiery yielded to the 
christianized eloquence of their chaplain, and his success 
in the army was indeed most wonderful. His benevolence 
and benignity while there is storied by many a tongue. 
We indulge ourselves by selecting an instance which did 
not reach our ears until since his decease. A detachment 
of the army was ordered to march ; a river was to be forded ; 
a poor soldier, in years, and struggling with sickness, was 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



317 



tottering under his burden. The preacher instantly ac- 
coutred himself with the knapsack, arms, and cartouch- 
box, and, thus arrayed, proceeded on, while the sufferer, 
disencumbered, passed lightly over. The writer of this 
sketch could furnish a series of similar anecdotes ; often, 
when his finances have been at the lowest ebb, and the 
prodigious expense of living has produced distressing em- 
barrassments, she has seen him extend to the necessitous 
an extricating hand ; and he not only indulged and 
cherished, but invariably stimulated, every charitable pur- 
pose of her soul. 

General "Washington honored the preacher with marked 
and uniform attention. The chaplains of the army united 
in petitioning the chief for the removal of the promulgator 
of glad tidings ; the answer was handed them in the general 
orders of the ensuing day, which appointed Mr. John Mur- 
ray chaplain of the three Rhode Island regiments, with a 
command, from His Excellency George Washington, that 
he should be respected accordingly. Mr. Murray's com- 
mission was made out and delivered to him ; when, enclos- 
ing it in a respectfully polite letter of thanks, he returned 
it to the noble-minded chief, earnestly requesting permis- 
sion to continue in the army as a volunteer. General 
"Washington, after perusing, folded the paper, and observed, 
" Mr. Murray is a young man now ; he will live to be old, 
and repentance will be the companion of his age." The 
preacher lived to see this prediction fulfilled. Had he em- 
braced the rich opportunity then presented, he might have 
continued in the family of General Greene, whose friend- 
ship was unbroken, and where his abode was hailed as a 
distinguishing favor, his daily ratio would have augmented 
for his emolument, his salary would have accumulated, he 



318 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURE AY. 



would have retired upon half pay or commutation, and, dur- 
ing the years of languor and decrepitude, he might have 
commanded his own carriage and servants ; but the reader 
must have seen that the preacher was accustomed to with- 
draw from the approaches of affluence. 

Mr. Murray continued in the army so long as his health 
would permit ; but being violently seized by an indisposi- 
tion, which terminated in a bilious fever that precipitated 
him to the gates of the grave, he was, by the physician 
of the brigade, conducted to Gloucester ; and no sooner 
was his health re-established, than his strongest feelings 
were powerfully excited hy the sufferings of the sons and 
daughters of want in that town. TVar of any description 
is particularly oppressive to the inhabitants seated upon 
the margin of the ocean. Their subsistence is principally 
derived from the deep. The rich sources of commerce, 
thrown open by the genial hand of peace, became to the 
hard} 7 and enterprising Gloucesterian, legitimate objects 
of pursuit ; and his uniform and industrious efforts are 
crowned by competency. But whatever obstructs his ad- 
venturous plans inevitably involves him in distress ; and 
the period to which we advert w^as perhaps the most 
gloomy of any during the Revolutionary War. It had con- 
tinued long enough to try without familiarizing or indurating 
the feelings, and hope had almost become the victim of 
despair. The humane preacher surveyed those multiplied 
children' of penuiy, and he surveyed them with a philan- 
thropic eye ; nor was this all : commencing a journey in 
the depth of a severe winter, he addressed the general 
officers in the American army, beginning with their revered 
chief, and extending his application to many other gentle- 
man whose confidence and whose friendship he enjoyed. 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



319 



He addressed to those distinguished individuals the voice 
of supplication, and so successful was his embassy, that he 
returned to Gloucester with a large sum of monej 7 , which he 
converted into rice, meal, and molasses, rendering a scrupu- 
lous account to the selectmen, and praying them to recom- 
mend such persons as were proper objects of this providen- 
tial bounty. The whole was punctually distributed, and 
many sufferers most essentially relieved. Yet, on the 
twenty-seventh da} r of February, in the succeeding year, 
1777, we find this same feeling solicitor summoned from 
the house of a friend, Mr. Winthrop Sargent, where he was 
suffering from indisposition, and arraigned at the bar of 
the then committee of safety for the town of Gloucester. 
Some gentleman counselled him to disregard the summons, 
especially as the whole committee were not assembled, and 
those who were collected were decidedly his inveterate 
enemies ; but he answered, that, possessing a conscious- 
ness of innocence, he could not fear the face of man. 

The following account of the extraordinary proceedings 
which ensued is from the minutes of a gentleman who was 
an ear-witness of the scene. The chairman of the committee 
opened the business. " We have sent for you, to know 
who 3 t ou are, and from whence you came?" — " Your 
question is rather difficult, sir ; I hardly know how to an- 
swer you. Do you mean where did I come from last? " — 
"I say where did you come from?" — "I have been in 
various places in this country, sir." — "I say where did you 
come from when you came into this country?" — "From 
England." — " From what part of England ?" — " London." 
— " What business had you to come to this country? " — 
" Business, sir ! I felt disposed to come, and came — " — 
u What business have you in this town?" — " The same as 



320 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 

I have in every town where I happen to sojourn/' Here 
one of the committee arose, and requesting leave to speak, 
which was granted, said, " I conceive we have sent for this 
man to know from whence he came, who he is, and what 
business he has here. This is a time of difficulty ; we are 
at variance with England ; he calls himself an Englishman ; 
we do not know what he is. He associates with a great 
many whom we look upon as enemies to this country, and 
they go to hear him converse, — I think, — I cannot call 
it preaching." Here Mr. Murray would have spoken, but 
he was imperiously, not to say impudently, commanded to 
be silent, and his accuser proceeded, until at length the 
chairman again resumed, " Where did you come from? We 
want to know where you were born, and brought up." 
Mi*. Murray answered, " Gentlemen, it is not my wish to 
give you unnecessary trouble. I was born in England ; 
shortly after I had attained my eleventh year, I accompanied 
my father to Ireland, where I continued many years under 
his care. When I was between ten and twenty I returned 
to England, where I abode, living generally in London, 
until I quitted it for this country. Since I came into this 
country, my residence has been in Maryland, Pennsylvania, 
the Jerseys, New York, Connecticut, Rhode Island, Massa- 
chusetts, and New Hampshire." — " What did you come 
into this country for? " — " In pursuit of retirement ; but 
concurrent circumstances rendered me a preacher."- — 
"Have you any credentials ?" — " Yes, sir." — "Show 
them." — "I have none present ; there are many in this 
town who have heard me, and received my testimony ; they 
are my credentials." — " Ay, that is nothing ; you see he 
has no authority. How could you think of preaching with- 
out authority?" — " When I came into this country, there 



LIFE OF REV, JOHN MUIWAY. 



321 



was no war. I believed it to be a land of civil and religious 
liberty. Every charter and every law made among your- 
selves breathed a spirit of toleration. I felt assured I should 
be allowed liberty of conscience. My intentions were up- 
right ; a conviction that God had ordained me to proclaim 
the gospel has been powerfully impressed upon my mind, 
and I am still convinced that I ought to preach the gospel." 
— " How long do you intend to stay in this town? " — "I 
do not precisely know ; but certainly until the weather and 
roads shall be good." — " The weather will do, and it is 
pretty good travelling now." (At this time, the winter 
having been extreuiety severe, the roads were nearly impas- 
sable.) "I do not believe I shall quit Gloucester until 
April ; about that time I expect to commence a journey to 
Philadelphia." — "The town is very uneasj^ at your con- 
tinuance here, and we are a committee of safety. We are 
to take up all strangers, and send them out of town." — 
" Sir, I have already been warned out of town, and if 
you be apprehensive of my becoming a charge, I can procure 
bonds." One of the committee addressed the chair for 
liberty to speak, which having obtained, he said, " Your 
stay in this town is cause of uneasiness to many. You hurt 
the morals of the people, and a great many who hear you 
are enemies to the country." Mr. Murray responded, 
u Those who hear me, and believe what I deliver, can never 
be injured in their morals." — " I do not believe you." — 
" You have not heard all I have said in defence of my per- 
suasion." — "I have heard enough ; I neither believe, nor 
like it." — " Well, sir, there is no act of assembly to compel 
you to hear ; but you should remember your neighbor is 
entitled to equal liberty with yourself." — "You deliver 
very erroneous principles." — " My principles are all to be 
21 



322 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



found in the sacred records of divine truth," — u Ay, so 
you say." — "I was not apprised that I was cited before a 
spiritual court." Mr. Murray then addressed the chair : 
" Sir, this gentleman asserts that I associate with a great 
many enemies of this country. I demand that they be 
pointed out. If I associate with an individual of this 
description, it is unknown to me." A gentleman at the 
chairman's elbow observed, " Mr. Chairman, I think we 
have no business to answer this man a single question. 
We did not send for him to answer his questions, but to 
ask questions of him." 

The chairman then repeated that the town was very un- 
easy, and advised Mr. Murray to depart to prevent further 
trouble ; to which he answered, " Sir, I have been nearly 
seven years in this country. Perhaps no one has a more 
extensive acquaintance. I have many friends and many 
enemies. I feel that I am a friend to all mankind, and I 
am happy that no circumstance of my life can prove the 
contrary. I was invited to this town, and I have been cor- 
dially received ; but it seems I am suspected, because I 
associate with many who are enemies to this country. I 
associate with Captain Winthrop Sargent.,* — pray, is he an 
enemy ? During my residence in this place I have never 
heard a syllable uttered which this committee ought to 
consider as reprehensible. I am not acquainted with a 
single individual who appears to me an enemy to this coun- 
try. Two or three worthy characters I know, who do not 
perfectly approve every measure which has been adopted, 

* Winthrop Sargent. I have supplied the full name. This gentleman was one 
of the principal citizens of the place, and Mr. Murray resided at his house. He 
was a firm and decided patriot, and so the citizens considered him, for they 
elected him in 177*0 to the Convention that framed the Constitution. — T. W. 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



323 



I have recently endeavored to recollect how many gentle- 
men the circle of my connections from Maryland to New 
Hampshire contained, who were suspected of being un- 
friendly to the present order of things, and I could number 
but five persons, not an individual of whom has ever been 
proved inimical to American prosperity. For myself, I 
rejoice in the reflection that I am a stanch friend to liberty, 
genuine liberty. It is well known that I have labored to 
promote the cause of this country, and I rejoice that I have 
not labored in vain. I am so well known, and I have the 
happiness to be so well respected, that His Excellency 
General Washington appointed me to officiate as chaplain 
to several regiments. I should have imagined this would 
have been sufficient credentials here. I have injured no 
person in this town, I am invited to meet my friends in 
the house of a friend, where they desire me to read the 
Bible, to comment thereon, and to unite with them in sol- 
emn prayer to Almighty God, for the continuance of his 
mercies to us as a people, and not unto us only, but to a 
once lost and now redeemed world." A member of the 
committee observed, that they could not be answerable for 
.anything that might be done by a mob, and it was not in 
their power to prevent it, if he did not without delay leave the 
town. Mr. Murray, laying his spread hand upon his breast, 
answered, " Sir, I feel such a consciousness of innocence 
here, that I know not what it is to fear. It is with perfect 
composure that I commit myself to God, and the laws of 
this Commonwealth. If I have broken an} r law, let me be 
punished by law ; but I bless God I am not a lawless per- 
son. Sir, I am a stranger to fear ; I have committed no 
action worthy of punishment. Sir, I know not what it is 
to fear. No man can have any power over me, except it 



324 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



be given to him from above ; no injury can be clone me, but 
by the permission of my God, But I am not afraid. The 
worst this mob can do, is to deprive me of a life which I 
have been many years quite willing to resign. Sir, I com- 
mit myself and my cause to the Ruler of heaven and of 
earth." One gentleman observed that the rule upon earth 
was delegated to them, or words to that effect, when Mr. 
Murray replied, " Sir, I conceive the God of heaven is the 
only ruler in heaven above, and in earth beneath," and, 
addressing the chair, he added, " Sir, I have answered 
every question you have thought proper to ask ; and as I 
find it difficult to speak, I am so very ill, I will take leave 
to wish yon a good-evening. Gentlemen, good-night ; " 
when without interruption he departed. 

Alas, alas ! how tyrannical is the dominion of prejudice ! 
In this instance it precipitated men, respectable men, who 
in the common occurrences of life had uniformh T preserved 
a decent reputation, upon a procedure the most absurd and 
unwarrantable. Interrogations so unceremonious^ made 
to a person who, as the almoner of his God, had, the pre- 
ceding year, fed large numbers of their almost famished 
poor, who had never committed any act of violence, or 
discovered the smallest inclination to aid the enemies of 
the New World, were, as we trust, a singular outrage. But 
Mr. Murrajr was a Christian, and after the way that they 
called heresy, so worshipped he the God of his fathers ; he 
could not, therefore, be allowed to merit either confidence 
or gratitude. 

On the Christmas day of 1780, Mr. Murray first preached 
in a small, neat building, erected for his use b}' the Glouces- 
terians. * His adherents, associated for public worship, 

* See Engraving, Gloucester Meeting-house. 



LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 



325 



bad, as they believed, organized themselves, and, solemnly 
•covenanting together, they conceived themselves an inde- 
pendent church of Christ. A writing was prepared, 
signed by every individual of the congregation, in which, 
after dilating upon the fundamental principles of the faith 
Ihey had embraced, they professed to acknowledge, as 
Christians, no Master but Jesus Christ, receiving as their 
guide in spiritual matters only the word and spirit of the 
Redeemer ; but they pledged themselves to the community 
at large, and to each other, to yield obedience to every 
ordinance of man, to be peaceable and obedient subjects to 
the powers ordained of God, in all civil cases. But as sub- 
jects of that King whose kingdom is not of this world, 
they denied the right of any human authority to make laws 
for the regulation of their consciences ; * they rejoiced in 

* About this time the Convention was in session for forming the Constitution 
for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. It seems some of the members were 
somewhat alarmed at the spread of Mr. Murray's sentiments ; for the following 
is the form of the Third Article of the Bill of Rights, as it was first reported to 
the Convention. 

"Good morals being necessary to the preservation of civil society; and the 
knowledge and belief of the being of a God, his providential government of the 
world, and of a future state of rewards and punishments, being the only true 
foundation of morality, the legislature hath therefore a right, and ought to pro- 
vide, at the expense of the subjects, if necessary, a suitable support for the public 
worship of God, and of the teachers of religion and morals; and to enjoin upon 
all the subjects an attendance upon their instructions at stated times and seasons ; 
provided there be any such teacher on whose ministry they can conscientiously 
and conveniently attend. 

" All moneys paid," etc. 

This form, after a very long and severe debate, was rejected. Previous to the 
adoption of the Third Article, as it was submitted to, and ratified by, the people, 
it was very seriously attempted to alter it in the place where it says, " and every 
denomination of Christians shall be equally under the protection of the laws," 
by having it read, " and every denomination of Christians, whose mowed princi- 
ples are not inconsistent with the peace and safety of society," or, " except such 
whose principles are repugnant to the Constitution." But there was wisdom 



326 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



the liberty wherewith Christ had made them free, and they 
determined no more to be entangled by any yoke of bond- 
age. They professed a disposition to live peaceably with 
all men, to avoid unnecessary disputation ; and, should they 
be reviled, to endeavor in patience to possess their souls. 
We make from this solemn instrument the following 
extract : — 

" As an independent church of Christ thus bound 
together by the cords of his love, and meeting together in 
his name, we mutually agree to receive as our Minister, 
that is, our servant, sent to labor amongst us in the work 
of the gospel by the great Lord of the vineyard, our friend 
and brother, John Murray. Thi3 we do from a full con- 
viction that the same God who sent the first preachers of 
Jesus Christ, sent him ; and that the same gospel they 
preached we have, from time to time, received from him. 
Thus believing him a Minister of the New Testament, con- 
stantly declaring the whole counsel of God, proclaiming the 
same divine truth that all God's holy prophets from the 
beginning of the world have declared, we cordially receive 
him as a messenger from God. And as it hath pleased 
God to open a great and effectual door for the preaching of 
his gospel, by this his servant, in sundry parts of this 
great continent ; whenever it shall please his and our divine 
Master to call him to preach the everlasting gospel else- 
where, we will wish him God-speed ; and pray that the good- 
will of Him who dwelt in the bush may accompany him, and 
make his way clear before him." 

enough in the Convention to defeat these disguised attempts on the liberties of 

the people. 

See the work lately published by order of the legislature, entitled " Journal 

of Convention, 1779-80." — T. "VV. 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



327 



Thus, we repeat, the little congregation in Gloucester 
considered themselves an independent church of Christ. 
They were conscious that they had, in every instance, 
demeaned themselves as good citizens, and that their 
utmost efforts had uniformly been embodied for the 
advancement of the public weal. The}'' felt themselves 
deservedly invested with the privileges and immunities 
of free citizens, entitled to those liberties with which God 
and nature had endowed them, and which they believed to 
be secured to them by a constitution of government happily 
established by the people of this Commonwealth. Dissent- 
ing essential^ from the doctrines taught by the established 
minister, the} T had borne an early testimony against his 
settlement ; and they humbly hoped it would be sufficient 
for them to believe the holy scriptures, and to adopt the 
pure system of morals contained therein as the rule of their 
conduct, and the man of their counsel. The} r rejoiced 
in the liberty of free inquiiy, guaranteed by the strong arm 
of government ; and they felicitated themselves that they 
had been ushered into being at a time when that fearful 
period had gone by, which, arming the religionist with the 
potent vengeance of civil authority, wrapped the whole 
world in a cloud of impenetrable darkness, debilitated the 
human intellect by closing the door of free inquiry, and 
gave birth to eight hundred 3-ears of ignorance and bar- 
barism, unequalled b} r an} f preceding era; whence arose 
an awful chasm in the history of the world, and men ceased 
to think because thinking was a crime. The Gloucesterians 
adopted the idea of a respectable writer, who considered 
ordination as nothing more than the solemn putting a man 
into his place and office in the church, a right to which he 
had obtained by previous election, which, together with his 



828 LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY. 

voluntary acceptance of such election, became a legitimate 
base, upon which was founded the relationship between 
pastor and flock. Thus, as the word ordain signifies no 
more than to appoint, they conceived that the election, and 
not the laying on of hands, completed the ordination. 
Reposing upon the second and third article in the declara- 
tion of rights, the Gloucesterians exult ingly said, " No 
subject shall be hurt, molested, or restrained in his person, 
liberty, or estate, for worshipping God in the manner and 
season most agreeable to the dictates of his own conscience ; 
or for his religious profession or sentiments, provided he 
doth not disturb the public peace, or obstruct others in their 
religious worship. All religions societies shall, at all 
times, have the exclusive right of electing their public 
teachers, and of contracting with them for their support 
and maintenance. And all moneys paid by the subject to the 
support of public worship, shall, if he require it, be uniformly 
applied to the support of the public teacher or teachers of his 
own religious sect or denomination, provided there be any on 
whose instructions he attends. 7 ' But while the Gloucesterians 
were confidently singing a requiem to their cares, they 
beheld, to their great astonishment, and no small dismay* 
their goods seized by an officer, and sold at auction, for the 
purpose of answering the demands of the established 
minister. Articles of plate from one, English goods from 
another, and, from a third, the anchor of a vessel on the 
point of sailing. 

It was, as we believe, in the autumn of 1783 that this 
act of violence took place. An action was instituted by 
the Independent Church of Christ in Gloucester. Mr. Mur- I 
ray was urged to allow the prosecution to proceed in his 
name. His reluctance to this step was decided and affect- 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



329 



ing. He had passed through the country without even 
allowing or accepting contributions ; and to be considered 
a prosecutor for moneys said to be due to him for preaching 
the gospel, which he had determined to promulgate free as 
the light of heaven! — the very idea was a stab to his long- 
cherished feelings. It appeared to him like prostrating the 
integrity of his character, and stripping him of those 
honors which he had fondly hoped would remain forever 
unshorn. The situation of his mind upon this occasion 
may be gathered from two extracts of letters, addressed to 
him by a respectable gentleman: "You know the induce- 
ment I had to engage in this cause was to be emancipated 
from the shackles of a pontificate ; and my aversion was 
ever determined from having the suit brought in your name, 
as well from your abhorrence, as that the result, however 
favorable, would not establish us upon the broad base of 
genuine freedom. However, I am now convinced from 
reflection that our cause will be ruined unless you assume 
it. Mr. Hitchborne was clear it ought to have been in your 
name before. At our pressing request, he drew the last 
writ. Mr. Sullivan has declared it must be in your name. 
Mr. Pynchon (allowed on all hands to be deeply versed in 
the intricacies of the law) assured a gentleman he would 
warrant success, and even undertake the conducting the 
cause, if the proper use were made of your name. Mr. 
Sewall's opinion is in unison with Mr. Pynchon. I hate 
delay and indecision, and shall lament if chicane and polit- 
ical views must prevail over the purest intentions." 

To this letter Mr. Murray responded, in terms descriptive 
of much anguish of spirit, and his sympathizing friend 
immediately replied : — 



330 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



" I essay not to communicate the impression which your 
letter has made upon me. Would that pen and paper were 
adequate to express all that could be conveyed by the 
tongue. Shall I be condemned for being of an unsteady 
disposition, or shall I be justified in my change of senti- 
ment from the variety of events? Be it as it may, it 
matters not ; your letter has produced another alteration 
in my mind. Your conflict between the resolution you 
have taken, and the interest of your friends, which I am 
persuaded is very dear to you, is carried on in your breast 
to a degree of agony. I see how distressing it is for you r 
even in appearance, to stand forth and contend for what 
you have so nobly held in sovereign contempt. In this point 
of view it ceases to be a question. Let the idea of interest 
perish. I had rather a large part of mine, dear as it is^ 
should be wrested from me, than that you should sacrifice 
any portion of your peace or your honor ; therefore I en- 
treat you, my dear sir, do no violence to }^our feelings., 
I thank God, the truth of our cause does not depend upon 
the decision of a court of judicature ; and r admit the worst,, 
it is only what we are bidden to expect r that this world \& 
opposed to the other. Justice, however, notwithstanding 
my sympathy for you, urges me to repeat that our Iaw}'ers 
see no- rational prospect of success, but from- your becoming: 
a principal in the business. If you can bend your mind y 
well ; take time to deliberate ; delays in law, perhaps, are 
not so dangerous as in other affairs ; at any rate, I entreat, 
you to become more tranquil. I had rather make payment 
to Parson Forbes than that you should thus suffer." 

The preacher, under the direction of many importuning: 
friends, loaned his name,, which step was to him a per- 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



S3! 



manent subject of regret.* Trials succeeded trials, review 
after review, at Salem, and at the Supreme Judicial Court, 
held at Ipswich, in 1783, 1784, and 1785. 

The pleaders seemed an invincible phalanx, and the 
mind-bending eloquence of the Honorable Mr. King was 
indeed a most potent aid. Men characterized the oratory 
of that gentleman, as persuading, commanding, and like 
an irresistible torrent bearing down every obstacle. Many 
of the senior advocates seemed so to feel and acknowledge 
the superiority of Mr. King, as to surrender to him the 
right of closing causes of great importance j and a high 
law character declared, that, had he a cause depending, 
of the greatest intricacy and magnitude, to be plead before 
the first tribunal in the world, he would prefer Mr. King as 
his advocate to an}?- man he had ever heard speak. Previous, 
however, to the adjudication of 1785, when a verdict in 
favor of the plaintiffs by the suffrage of the jury (exclusive 
of the judges) was obtained, the political career of this 
celebrated character removed him from their counsel, and 
their cause was committed to, and ably supported by, Mr., 
afterwards Governor, Sullivan, and Judge Tudor. The late 
Chief Justice Parsons and Mr. Bradbury were counsel for 
the defendants. The Gloucesterians, in their appeal to the 

* This perhaps is expressed too strongly. It is true that Mr. Murray at first 
very unwillingly lent his name as the prosecutor ; but afterwards, in view of 
the good which resulted from the lawsuit, it became a subject of pleasant re- 
flection to him. Hear what he says, shortly after his return from England, in 
178S : — 

" I have been the happy instrument, of which the God of peace and mercy has 
made use, to give a death wound to that hydra, parochial persecution. Persons 
now under the denomination of Independents, who believe and bear witness to 
the truth as it is in Jesus, are endowed with every privilege possessed by the 
national church, or established religion ; and, of course, my situation since my 
return has been abundantly more eligible than it was previous to my depart- 
ure." — Letters and Sketches, ii. 351, 352. — T. W, 



332 LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 

" impartial public," pertinently observed that the decision 
of the question, agitated respecting them, ultimately in- 
volved every citizen of the Commonwealth, and instantly 
affected the several religious orders of Episcopalians, 
Baptists, Presbyterians, Sandemanians, Quakers, and every 
other denomination of Christians, who, in this State, were 
called sectaries. 

Upon the objection that their teacher was not a preacher 
of piety, religion, and morality, they mildly observed, 
they were not convinced that the question could be de- 
termined from a revision of the motives he offered as to the 
rewards which are to be bestowed, or punishments inflicted, 
in another world. They rather supposed it should be de- 
cided upon the evidence of his urging the people to 
piety and morality, as the foundation of the greatest 
good of which their natures were capable, and as 
a compliance with the will of their Almighty Creator 
and Preserver. The}?- believed that the Scriptures affirmed 
that God would punish men for sin, even in this world, 
in a manner which would far, very /ar, overbalance the 
pleasures to be derived from vice. They conceived that 
the idea ' iat it was necessary to the good order of govern- 
ment, th. t the teachers of religion should thunder out the 
doctrine Jf everlasting punishment to deter men from atro- 
cious crimes, which they might otherwise commit in secret, 
had lone been hackneyed in the hands of men in power, 
but withe t an}- warrant from reason or revelation. Reason, 
without t ie aid of revelation, gave no intimation of a state 
of retribution beyond the grave ; and the gospel brought 
life and immortality to light ; nor, said they, was it until 
the Christian church was illegally wedded to State policy, 
that men in power dared to hurl the thunders of the Most 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



333 



High at those who offended against government. But, 
they added, should the point be maintained, that courts 
and juries are authorized to determine whether the teacher 
of a religious sect is a teacher of morality, from his opinion 
either of the cause, mode, or state of men's happiness or 
misery in another world, or from his opinion of the nature 
or proportions of the rewards for virtue, or the punishments 
for vice, in a future state, no sect or denomination could 
be safe, it being a matter resting on opinion only, without 
any earthly tribunal having the ability or authority to 
settle the question. Suppose an Episcopalian teacher 
should have an action in his name to recover the money paid 
by his hearers. Perhaps he might be one who had subscribed 
and sworn to the thirty-nine articles, the truth of ivhicJi is 
ivell supported by act of Parliament. An objection might be 
made from one of the articles, that tells us, God from all eter- 
nity elected a certain number to happiness, and predestinat- 
ed all the rest of the human race to everlasting misery ; and 
this of his own sovereign will, without any regard to the merit 
of the one, or the demerit of the other. A jury might be found 
who would decide at once that this doctrine is subversive 
of all morality and good order ; for, if the state of qv *ry man 
be unalterably fixed from all eternity, and nothing done by 
him can in any wise change the divine decree, why, hen the 
elect may conceive themselves justified in seeking to injure 
those whom God from eternit}^ has consigned to ) uxlition. 

But should an Arminian be on trial, and it ap ;ared he 
taught his people it was within their own power t\ procure 
future happiness, a jury might not be able to di anguish 
between the prescience and the foreordination of God ; and 
it might be called impiety to allege that the infinitely wise 
Being did not from all eternity know the ultimate fate of 



334 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



all his creatures. It would at least be called derogatoiy to 
the honor of the Most High, to suppose anything to be 
contingent with him ; and therefore a teacher of such prin- 
ciples might, in the eye of some persons, be viewed as a 
teacher of impiety and immorality. From these, and 
various other considerations, the Gloucesterians humbly 
conceived that religion was a matter between an individual 
and his God ; that no man had a right to dictate a mode of 
worship to another ; that in that respect 'every man stood 
upon a perfect equality ; and they believed that the paucity 
of their numbers, and the prejudices of their enemies, had 
pointed them out as proper objects for the first essay of 
religious tyranny. Hence, they rather chose to seek redress 
from the great law made hy the people to govern the legis- 
lature, than from the legislature itself; believing they 
should betray the freedom of their country if they timidly 
shrunk from a trial upon the great principles of the consti- 
tution. Indeed, they seemed to consider themselves as the 
Hampdens of our religious world. 

In the course of the month of September, 1785, a writ 
of review was again served, and the final decision was 
referred and deferred until the June of 1786, when a conclu- 
sive verdict was obtaiued in favor of the plaintiffs. Mr. 
Murray was then in the State of Connecticut. We tran- 
scribe an extract from a letter which wafted to the eye and 
ear of the promulgator intelligence of the emancipation of 
his adherents. 

" Last Tuesday our party with their cloud of witnesses 
were present, and called out at the bar of the Supreme 
Judicial Court. The cause was opened by Mr. Bradbury, 
and replied to by Mr. Hitchborne. The court adjourned to 
the succeeding morning. I arrived just in season to hear it 



LIFE OF REV. JO TIN MURRAY. 



335 



taken up by Mr. Parsons, and closed by Mr. Sullivan. I 
wish for an opportunity to render my acknowledgments to 
this gentleman. He displayed upon this day an eloquence 
not less than Roman. The judges summed up the whole. 
The first was ambiguous, the second was so trammelled and 
inarticulate as to be scarcely understood ; but the remain- 
ing three have acquired a glory which will be as lasting as 
time. The conduct of Judge Dana attracted particular 
notice. You remember he heretofore labored against us. 
There appeared a disposition to traverse our counsel ; in his 
comments on the constitution, those parts which made for 
us he turned against us ; he asserted the tax was not per- 
secuting, but legal ; religious societies were bodies corpo- 
rate, or meant to be so ; sect and denomination were pro- 
miscuously used and synonymous ; and the whole was 
delivered with a sententious gravity, the result of faculties 
laboriously cultivated by experience and study. But a 
revolution had now passed in his mind, and when he noticed 
that article in the constitution which directs moneys to be 
applied to the teacher of his own religious sect, he said the 
whole cause depended upon the construction of that clause. 
He had heretofore been of opinion it meant teachers of 
bodies corporate ; he then thought otherwise. As the con- 
stitution was meant for a liberal purpose, its construction 
should be of a most liberal kind. It meant in this instance 
teachers of any persuasion whatever, Jew or Mahometan. 
It would be for the jury to determine if Mr. Murray was a 
teacher of piety, religion, and morality. ^That matter, he 
said, had in his opinion been fully proved. The only ques- 
tion, therefore, before them was, if Mr. Murray came within 
the description of the constitution, and had a right to 
require the money. "It is my opinion," he decidedly 



036 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



declared, u that Mr. Murray comes within the description 
of the constitution, and has a right to require the money. " 
The jury received the cause, and departed the court at half 
past three. In the evening they returned with a declara- 
tion that they could not agree. The chief judge with some 
asperity ordered them to take the papers and go out again. 
They continued in deliberation through the whole night. 
Thursday morning they came in again, declaring their 
unanimous agreement that the judgment obtained the pre- 
ceding year was in nothing erroneous. Thus have we gained 
our cause, after trials of such expectation and severity. 
We rejoice greatly. ' It is the Lord's doings, and marvellous 
in our eyes/ " 

Mr. Murray continued uniformly to devote the summer 
months to his multiplied adherents from Maryland to New 
Hampshire. In what manner is copiously described in his 
" Letters and Sketches of Sermons." In the February of 
1783, we find the preacher, as usual, deeply interested in 
the cause of his great Master, and suggesting in a letter 
to his friend and fellow-laborer, Mr. Noah Parker, the pro- 
priety of an annual meeting of the heralds of redemption. 
His words are : " Indeed, it would gladden ury heart, if every 
one who stands forth a public witness of the truth as it is in 
Jesus, could have an opportunit}' of seeing and conversing 
one with another at least once every year. I believe it 
would be attended with very good effects. Think of it, my 
friend, and let me know the result of your deliberation. I 
think these servants of the Most High might assemble one 
year at Norwich, one year at Boston, and another at Ports- 
mouth, or wherever it may be most convenient. I have 
long contemplated an association of this description ; and 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



337 



the longer I deliberate, the more I am convinced of the 
utility which would be annexed to the regulation." 

In the September of 1785, the preacher, writing to the 
same friend, thus expresses himself: " Although very much 
indisposed, I am commencing a journey to Oxford, where I 
expect to meet a number of our religious brethren from 
different towns in which the gospel has been preached and 
believed, for the purpose of deliberating upon some plan to 
defeat the designs of our enemies, who aim at robbing us 
of the liberty wherewith the constitution has made us free. 
On nry return I shall communicate to you the result of our 
meeting." Upon the close of the same month of Septem- 
ber he thus writes : " Well, I have been to Oxford, and the 
assembly convened there was truly primitive. We delib- 
erated, first, on a name ; secondl} T , on the propriety of 
being united in our common defence ; thirdly, upon the 
utility of an annual meeting of representatives from the 
different societies ; and, fourthly, upon keeping up a con- 
stant correspondence by letter. Each of the particulars 
is to be laid before the societies represented by their del- 
egates on this occasion, and, if approved, their approba- 
tion to be announced by circular letters to the several 
societies. Mr. Winchester delivered a most excellent 
sermon. His subject was, ' But though we, or an angel 
from heaven preach any other gospel unto you, than that 
which we have preached unto } T ou, let him be accursed/ 
By the desire of Mr. Winchester, I closed the subject." 

Thus was a convention formed, and, we may add, organ- 
ized by the father of Universalism in this country. But, 
alas ! in no long time a root of bitterness sprang up, which 
destroyed his pleasure in the association. Yet, in the last 
stage of his pilgrimage, he frequentty regretted that his 

99 



/ 



338 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 

attendance upon this convention had not been more uniform ; 
as he might possibly, by his years and his experience, have 
met and obviated the difficulties which distressed him. 
Mr. Winchester, searching the Bible for arguments to con- 
fute Mr. Murray, became himself a Universalist, but he 
was a Universalist of the Chauncian school. He was 
a man of pure morals, and an ardent lover of the Ee- 
deemer.* 

At this period, in addition to the houses erected in 

* At the convention at Oxford, there were represented societies at Gloucester, 
Boston, Milford, and Oxford. We suppose that Mr. Murray was present at 
each session up to 1791. He also journeyed to Bennington, Vt., to attend the 
session of 179.5. We find him again at Sturbridge, in 1804. These two appear to 
be the only sessions at which he was present after 1791. The "root of bitterness " 
to which Mrs. Murray refers was probably the widening divergence of the views 
of his brethren from those of Mr. Murray. Not only did these relate to exposi- 
tions, but also to what he deemed fundamental doctrines. Some had already, 
even before Mr. Ballou's day, adopted the sentiment that the painful consequen- 
ces of sin are confined to this life. Others, retaining the doctrine of the Trinity, 
rejected the theory of vicarious atonement ; while the general tendency of thought 
among Universalists was in the direction of Unitarian views of the divine nature. 
These various sentiments, conflicting with his own cherished ideas of gospel 
truth, caused Mr. Murray much uneasiness. There was constant collision be- 
tween his kindness of heart and fraternal spirit, and his Christian earnestness. 
In his intercourse with his brethren, believed to be in error and leading others 
astray, he was at times full of affectionateness, while at others his anxiety would 
find expression. It is certain that he sometimes expressed himself very strongly 
with reference to the views of his differing brethren. Writing of Mr. Winches- 
ter's opinions, which included the idea of the satisfaction of divine justice, Mr. 
Murray says, " I know no persons further from Christianity, genuine Christian- 
ity, than such Universalists." And yet of Mr. Winchester himself, Mr. M. 
always wrote and spoke in the kindest terms. But he was so earnest in his 
faith, and each item of it, that he could not view with indifference the evident 
departure of the church he had organized from it. He especially viewed " Socin- 
ianism v with abhorrence; and professed more sympathy with Calvinistic Tar- 
tialism than with Unitarian Universalism. Mr. Ballou's growing influence must 
have been truly painful to him. But he continued with fidelity and zeal to pro- 
claim the gospel of universal salvation, a ministry which he loved, upon the basis 
of the principles he had adopted, and to which he firmly adhered to the close 
of his life. — G.L.D. 




% 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



339 



Gloucester and in Portsmouth, a convenient place for pub- 
lic worship was procured by the Universalists in the city 
of Philadelphia, and in the city of New York a church had 
been purchased, which they forbore to open until it could 
be dedicated by the peace-speaking voice of the promulga- 
tor. In the course of the autumn or winter of 1785, the 
Bostonians purchased a meeting-house in Bennet Street. 
This house they enlarged and beautified ; here Mr. Murra}' 
was occasionally their officiating minister.* And in the 

* The building was of wood, and stood at the corner of Hanover and North 
Bennet Streets, — the site of the present edifice, which was occupied by the First 
Universalist Society till Sunday, May 29, 1S64. It was erected by a society of 
which Rev. Samuel Mather was pastor, in 1741, — the year in which John Mur- 
ray was born. The building was sold on the twenty-fifth of December, 1785, to 
Shippie Townsend, James Prentiss, Jonathan Stoddard, John Page, and Josiah 
Snelling, who purchased it in behalf of the small society of Universalists, which 
had been gathered under the ministrations of Mr. Murray, largely aided by the 
Rev. Adam Streeter. The society had occupied the house a part of the time after 
the death of Mr. Mather, and were using it at the time of purchase. In the sum- 
mer of 1792, the building was enlarged to its final capacity and thoroughly re- 
modelled, preparatory to the settlement of Mr. Murray. In 1806 more repairs 
were made ; new pews built in the south gallery ; those on the first floor were 
altered, and " all the pews were painted one color," and the house itself was 
painted within and without, and the entire structure was put in a state of thor- 
ough repair. During these improvements the society worshipped in Faneuil 
Hall, where Mr. Murray had preached the first time on the twenty-sixth of No- 
vember, 1773. In 1S24, the year in which Rev. Sebastian Streeter was settled, 
parts of the building were remodelled, and " a splendid glass chandelier procured 
and suspended at the centre of the ceiling." In 1828 the last repairs or altera- 
tions of note were made. These consisted of a removal of the porch on Hanover 
Street, a new corridor being made under the gsllery at the front end, with three 
doors entering from the street; new staircases were made to the galleries, and 
material alterations made for the accommodation of the choir. At a time sub- 
sequent to this the lower floor was for the first time carpeted. The building 
remained conditioned thus till June 24, 1838, when the last services were held. 
An audience filling the house to repletion listened to a discourse by Rev. Sebas- 
tian Streeter, founded on Psalm lxxviii. 11th verse: " I will remember the works 
of the Lord; surely I will remember thy wonders of old." On the next day the 
work of demolition was commenced, preparatory to the erection of the building 
which now occupies the same site. — Communicated. 



340 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



metropolis of Pennsylvania, New York, and Massachusetts, 
he was earnestly solicited to take up his residence. 

Previous to the decision obtained by the Gloucesterians, 
a prosecution was commenced against their preacher for 
performing the marriage ceremony. Persuaded that he 
was commissioned by his God to preach the gospel, and 
knowing that he was ordained by the people to whom he 
administered, he believed himself authorized to receive the 
nuptial vows of as many among his adherents, as, furnished 
with the requisite certificates, made application to him for 
this purpose. A single instance was selected by his im- 
placable foes, and a special verdict obtained, which con- 
demned the preacher to pay a fine of fifty pounds. But 
this was not all ; he had frequently performed the marriage 
ceremony. Prosecution would most unquestionably suc- 
ceed prosecution ; and the sum total of multiplied amerce- 
ments would involve difficulties not easily surmounted. 
Prudence whispered the persecuted man of God, that he 
ought to absent himself until the interference of the Legis- 
lature could be obtained ; and inclination pointed his way 
over the pathless deep for the purpose of once more visit- 
ing his native shores, holding sweet converse with a few 
select friends, and folding to his filial bosom his venerable 
mother. Assured of the propriety of a step so important 
to his numerous American connections, on the sixth of Jan- 
uary, 1788, he embarked for England. Noble provision 
was made for him by the Bostonians, and all the expenses 
of the voyage defrayed. Russell, the benevolent Russell, 
was his friend, — Russell the philanthropist ; who, like his 
God, delighted in speaking peace to the sons and daughters 
of adversity. Dear, sympathizing friend of man ! to the 
children of sorrow thy memory is right precious. Had thy 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



Ml 



stinted abilities been commensurate with thy will, the 
voice of gladness would have resounded in every dwelling. 
Nor Russell alone ; many pressed forward, whose liberal 
hearts devised liberal things ; and substantial manifestations 
of affection to the preacher were abundant and munificent. 

During Mr. Murray's absence, the Legislature was ad- 
dressed. We regret that we cannot exhibit a complete 
copy of the petitions which were presented ; but such ex- 
tracts as we can command we transcribe : — 

" To the Honorable Senate, and the House of Represen- 
tatives of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, assembled 
in Boston in February, 1788 ; John Murray, of Gloucester, 
in the county of Essex, would humbly represent to your 
Honors, that about seventeen years ago he came into this 
country, which he considered as the asylum of religion and 
benevolence ; that on his arrival he began to preach the 
gospel of peace, in doing which he met with man}' cordial 
friends ; some of whom, namely, a societ}*- of Christians in 
Gloucester, distinguished themselves by their uniform at- 
tachment to the message and the messenger. And after 
your petitioner had occasionally labored among them for a 
considerable time, they associated together as an Indepen- 
dent Church, built a meeting-house, and invited your peti- 
tioner to reside with them as their settled minister ; and in 
the month of December, in the year 1780, did appoint, set 
apart, and ordain him to the work of the ministry, and to 
be their teacher of piety, religion, and morality ; that ever 
since that period he has considered himself, and has been 
considered b} T the people he has statedly labored amongst, 
as their ordained minister, and though your petitioner has, 
on sundry occasions, visited and labored amongst his 
Christian friends in other places, it has always been with 



LIFE OF REV. JOFttf MURRAY. 



the consent of his people, — they still looking on him and he 
on himself as their ordained minister. It also appears, 
that the people among whom your petitioner has frequently 
labored, have considered him in the same light ; as they 
have formally requested license of his people of Gloucester, 
who, after consultation, granted that license. Another 
circumstance that tended to confirm 3-0111* petitioner in the 
belief of his being an ordained minister in the strictest 
sense of the word, and according to the letter and spirit of 
the law, was the verdict given in favor of him and his peo- 
ple, by the Honorable Supreme Court and jury, when, after 
suffering much abuse from their persecuting opponents in 
Gloucester, they were reduced to the necessity of applying 
to the laws of their countiy for redress and protection. 
But their opponents, dissatisfied with the verdict then ob- 
tained, demanded a review ; after which review, the former 
verdict was confirmed by the full and decided opinion of 
the honorable court given in their favor. 

" Being thus, by constitutional right and legal decision 3 
established as an independent minister, settled with, and 
ordained by, the joint suffrages of the members of that re- 
ligious society, your petitioner supposed his troubles from 
his persecuting enemies were at an end. And upon con- 
sulting counsel learned in the law, who gave it as their de- 
cided opinion that he was an ordained minister, he pro- 
ceeded to perform the ceremony of marriage to such of his 
hearers who made application to him for that purpose. But 
some of his opponents, unacquainted with the independent 
mode of ordination, and presuming your petitioner was not 
ordained, because the same ceremonies were not made use 
of in his ordination to the use of which they were accus- 
tomed, brought the question of your petitioner's right of 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 343 

officiating as an ordained minister before the judges of the 
Supreme Judicial Court, who gave it as their opinion that 
he was not an ordained minister, in the sense of the law, 
as the forms of his ordination were not sufficiently notori- 
ous. Your petitioner, and the people who ordained him, 
conceived his ordination was sufficiently notorious, as the 
article was subscribed by every member of the society ; and 
the honorable court considered him a public teacher of piet3 r , 
religion, and morality. The recent adjudication of the 
honorable judges has involved your petitioner's little flock, 
in Gloucester, in expense and exquisite distress, and your 
petitioner is ruined, unless your Honors can interfere for 
his relief. He must not only satisfy the heavy penalty 
alread}' forfeited, to his said opponents and prosecutors, but 
he is liable to repeated forfeitures of like penalties for 
every marriage he has performed, since he has conceived 
himself the ordained minister of that people, which must in- 
volve his friends in expense, or consign him to a jail. Nor 
is this all ; supposing his ordination invalid, he is, by the 
letter of the law, liable to ignominious punishment. Now, 
as equity is said to be that interference of the supreme 
power, which alleviates, where the law, by being too com- 
prehensive, has involved a case to which it was not perhaps 
meant to extend ; and as he, and his people, his coun- 
sel, and the world at large, supposed him ordained, as much 
as an Episcopalian, or any other teacher, however different 
the mode of ordination, he most humbly prays your Honors 
to indemnify him for any farther prosecution, for any mar- 
iage he may have solemnized, under his supposed right ; 
nd by this means rescue him from the persecuting power 
f his malignant adversaries, restore the exercise of relig- 
ious rites to his oppressed and afflicted people, establish 



344 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



in the Commonwealth, in which he has long had his resi- 
dence, that peace which has been broken by the malice of 
his enemies. Your petitioner would in person have waited 
on such committee of your Honors, as may be appointed to 
consider this petition, but his well-grounded fears that pros- 
ecutions would be multiplied upon him, by the zeal of his 
religious adversaries, has necessitated him to absent him- 
self from the country of his adoption, and his dear people, 
until such time as the clemency of your Honors might be 
obtained in his behalf." 

The congregation in Gloucester addressed the Legislature 
in a separate petition, and the judges, Sullivan and Dawes, 
co-operated with Mr. Russell, in persevering efforts to ob- 
tain a decision. The petitions were referred to a committee 
of three gentlemen, of great respectability, who speedily 
prepared and handed in their report, which was laid upon 
the speaker's table, whence it was drawn forth by the 
speaker of the House, James Warren, Esq., accepted by a 
handsome majority, and sent up to the Senate for concur- 
rence. The report was called up from the president's table 
by the Hon. Mr. Dalton, when, after a debate of two hours, 
it passed the Senate almost unanimously. 

Meantime, the persecuted, and now nobly redressed 
promulgator was speeding across the great waters. His 
passage over the Atlantic was uncommonly boisterous. The 
European winter of this year was very severe. More navi- 
gation and lives were lost, in the January and February of 
1788, upon the tremendous coast of Cornwall, than had ever 
before been known in any one season. At length, however, 
the chalky cliffs of his native shore met his gladdened view, 
and the Heaven-protected vessel cast anchor in the commo- 
dious harbor of Falmouth. Mr. Murray was an entire 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



345 



stranger to this part of England ; but, by the Bostonians 
and Gloucesterians, he had been furnished with recommen- 
datory letters. 

Mr. Murray was received in Falmouth with fraternal 
kindness. The Sunday succeeding his arrival the pulpit 
of a gentleman, once in connection with Mr. Wkitefield, 
was thrown open to him, where he preached forenoon and 
afternoon, and continued delivering evening lectures until 
February 14, when he resumed his journej 7, by land to Lon- 
don, proclaiming glad tidings from the pulpits, as he passed 
along, to which free access was granted him. At Truro, 
Cheswater, Tregony, Mevegesscy, St. Austle Looe, in the 
several churches at Plymouth, and Plymouth Dock, Exeter, 
Wellington, etc., etc., he delivered his God-honoring, man- 
restoring message. Several clergymen always attended 
his lectures, and one gentleman accompanied him even to 
Exeter. We select a few of the subjects upon which he 
delighted to dwell : The lights ordained by the Creator for 
signs, Genesis iii. 15 ; the dress of the Jewish high priest ; 
the first Psalm, the eighty-ninth Psalm, Zechariah ix. 9, 1st 
John iv., and many passages drawn from Isaiah and the 
Epistles of the Apostle Paul. His manner of passing his 
time, and the devout propensities of his pious heart, may 
be gathered from a short extract from his journal, — a 
journal replete with beauty and interest to the christian- 
ized mind, and containing descriptions and remarks worthy 
the writer : — 

" I am delighted with walking through the fields ; the 
gardens are so very beautiful, the fields so very green, the 
linnets and goldfinches so bus}' on the hedges, preparing 
their habitations. These songsters of the groves, which 
are vocal on every spray, are to me like old and pleasing 



346 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



acquaintance, not seen nor heard of for a great number of 
y ears, while the fascinating choristers, in whom I have 
taken so much delight, seem, by their cheering notes, to 
welcome me as I pass along their native fields and hedges. 
The primroses, and a variety of other sweet flowers, are 
already in full bloom ; in short, everything wears a cheerful 
appearance. How grateful ought I to be to the Author of 
every good, who, in this dear country, follows me with the 
same loving-kindness and tender mercy with which he fol- 
lowed me in the dear country I have left ! The numerous 
friends with whom I occasionally sojourn are as anxious 
to detain me with them, and lament the necessity of my 
departure, precisely as did my American friends ; their 
hearts swell with transport, while I simply declare the gos- 
pel of the grace of God ; and they reiterate their expres- 
sions of admiration of the gracious words which God 
enables me to utter, in like manner as did the good Glou- 
cesterian Elder, Mr. Warner, on my first visit to that place. 
We mingle our supplications and addresses, our thanks- 
givings and our praises, and our hearts burn within us, 
while we converse of the goodness of our God, and the 
gracious purposes of redeeming love. Surely it would be 
ill-judged, if not cruel, in such circumstances, to dash the 
cup of felicity from the lips of these humble dependents 
upon the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, because perhaps 
they do not see to the end of the divine purposes. I never 
will preach anything but the gospel of God our Saviour, 
anywhere ; but I will leave those clear people to draw their 
conclusions, and, in the interim, I will feed them with the 
sincere milk of the word, that they may grow thereby. The 
inhabitants of this place (Falmouth) are a very friendly, re- 
ligious people. May God grant them peace, and give 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



347 



them abundant consolation in believing ! The people 
everywhere hear with American attention. Clergymen, 
wherever I sojourn, are generally my hosts. Gospel, un- 
adulterated gospel, is pleasant to the believing soul. I 
content myself with showing that man is lost by sin ; that 
the law is the ministration of death ; that the gospel is a 
divine declaration of life, by Jesus Christ, to every creat- 
ure. Yes, I will continue to preach the gospel freely to 
every creature. I will endeavor to point out its glories, 
and the many advantages attendant on believing the divine 
report. This, by the grace of God, shall still be the busi- 
ness of my life. Many clergymen attend me in my prog- 
ress ; no less than seven have been among my audience 
at one time ; and on my descending from the pulpit, they 
usually take my hand, and devoutly thank me for bearing 
so good a testimony for Jesus Christ — for speaking so well 
of the Redeemer, adding, that it is a pity I should clo any- 
thing but preach. Numbers flock around me, and, in fact, 
were I an angel descended from above, I could not be fol- 
lowed with more uniform attention." 

London is two hundred and twenty miles from Falmouth. 
The preacher did not reach that metroplis until the six- 
teenth of March, and his time was most delightfully passed 
in the service of God the Saviour. Upon one occasion, 
his entrance into one spacious place of worship was hailed 
by the musical choir devoutly chanting : — 

" Blow ye the trumpet, blow 
The gladly solemn sound; 
Let all the nations know, 

To earth's remotest bound, 
The year of Jubilee is come; 
Return, ye ransomed sinners, home." 



348 LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 

Yet even in this short visit to his native island, the pro- 
mulgator went through evil as well as good report. We 
subjoin a specimen of each. A gentleman of Falmouth, 
writing to his friend in Tregony, thus expresses himself: — 

".Mr. Murray will shortly be in your town. We have at- 
tended upon him here with inexpressible delight. Three 
such sermons as he has delivered, my ears never before 
heard ; such a preacher never before appeared in this town. 
I am convinced his ideas are all his own. I never heard 
anything like them ; his mind seems clearly informed, and 
his heart very much warmed by the love of God." But 
the following advertisement appeared in a London paper : — 

" Mr. Murray is an American, the most popular preacher 
in the United States. In the conclusion of one of his ser- 
mons, preached on that continent, he endeavored to enforce 
with all the powers of eloquence, the necessity of establish- 
ing in those States the same Olympic games, which were 
for many ages established among the Grecians." But 
this was not all ; it was storied that he had left America in ; 
consequence of a criminal prosecution. 

Arriving at London, he was once more enriched by the i 
maternal benediction. He found his venerable parent in 
the enjoyment of a fine green old age, and again she re- 
joiced in the presence of her son. In London, and at 
Hamstead, in the meeting-house once occupied by Mr.! 
Whitefield, he delivered his message of peace. Patronized 
in the city of London by an opulent family who cherished 
him as a son, he was strongly solicited once more to take 
up his abode in that metropolis ; but the providence of 
God had not so decreed, and, after continuing there a short 
time, he departed thence, and journeyed to Portsmouth, for 
the purpose of being in readiness to commence his return; 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



349 



to America. In Portsmouth, he was again a solitary stran- 
ger ; but he had not been more than four hours in that cel- 
ebrated and important emporium, ere he was engaged by a 
respectable clergyman to preach a lecture, which had been 
previously announced. In Portsmouth he tarried two 
weeks, preaching frequently. On his first lecture, he was 
solicited by a Doctor Miller to accompany him to his habi- 
tation, where he abode until he departed from that town. 
The circle of his acquaintance soon became large, among 
whom he numbered very respectable friends. When the 
clergymen, with whom Mr. Murray associated during his 
last residence in England, became ascertained of his full 
and comprehensive vieivs of the magnitude and extent of the 
redeeming plan, although very few adopted his ideas, yet 
they still continued warmly attached to the preacher ; and 
the letters they addressed to him, after his return to Amer- 
ica, which are still in being, would fill a volume. A few 
of the preachers' responses are contained in the volumes of 
u Letters and Sketches of Sermons." 

Mr. Murray proceeded to Cowes, upon the Isle of Wight, 
and from thence embarking for America, commenced his 
vo} r age with a fair wind, which soon changing, they were 
under the necessity of dropping anchor in Portland harbor, 
where they were long wind-bound. His passage was un- 
ommonly protracted ; but, fortunately, the passengers 
united to give it evety charm of which society is suscepti- 
ble ; and, when we add that our late respectable President, 
the Honorable John Adams and lady were of the number, 
the pleasures of the voyage will be nothing doubted. 
Books, music, and conversation varied the tedium of the 
passing weeks ; nor was the preacher debarred the exercise 
of his sacred avocation. Mr. Adams requested he would 



350 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



officiate as their teacher, every Sunday, and accordingly 
the ship's company, and the passengers, were, upon this 
holy day, collected round him. His first subject was the 
third commandment. They united in their addresses to 
the throne of grace, and in hymning the praises of their 
God. 

Again reaching the shores of this New World, the voice 
of exoneration and of freedom bade him welcome ; and the 
glad acclamations of joy resounded among his congratulat- 
ing and most affectionate friends. A summons from the 
Governor to attend a select party at his house met him on 
the day of his arrival, and every liberal mind partook the 
rational hilarity of the moment. 

The Gloucesterians, determining no more to hazard in- 
vidious prosecution, and its train of evils, appointed a day, 
the Christmas of 1788, on which to renew the ordination of 
their pastor ; and, after assembling, and effectuating their 
purpose, that they might bestow upon the solemn transac- 
tion all possible publicity, they procured its insertion in 
the "Centinel" of January 3, 1789, from which paper we 
transcribe it verbatim : — 

" Last Thursday week, Mr. John Murray was ordained 
to the pastoral charge of the Independent Church of 
Christ in Gloucester. After Mr. Murray had prayed, and 
one of the congregation had announced the intention of the 
meeting, and presented him formally with a call, Mr. 
Murray replied : — 

" ' Persuaded of the truth of the declaration, made by the 
compilers of the shorter catechism, that God's works of 
providence are his most holy, wise, and powerful, preserv- 
ing and governing all his creatures, and all their actions ; 
and having a full conviction that the affairs of the church 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



351 



are, in an especial manner, under his immediate direction ; 
and that you, my Christian friends and brethren, are now, 
as formerly, under the directing influence of that divine 
Spirit, which, taking of the things of Jesus, and showing 
them unto me, constrained me to become a preacher of the 
everlasting gospel, and directed you to set me apart, and 
ordain me to be your minister ; I now again, with humble 
gratitude to my divine Master, and grateful affection for 
you, my long-tried and faithful Christian friends and breth- 
ren, most cordially accept of this call/ 

" One of the committee then read the vote of the church : 
4 Resolved, that we, the proprietors of the independent 
meeting-house in Gloucester, the members of the church 
and congregation usually attending there for the purpose 
of divine worship, do, by virtue of that power vested in us 
by the great High Priest of our profession, the Bishop of 
our souls, and the great and only Head of the church ; and 
according to the institutions of the first churches in New Eng- 
land, and in perfect conformity to the third article of the dec- 
laration of rights, in this public manner, solemnly elect and 
ordain, constitute and appoint Mr. John Murray, of said 
Gloucester, clerk, to be our settled minister, pastor, and 
teaching elder ; to preach the word of God, and to incul- 
cate lessons and instructions of piety, religion, and morali- 
ty, on the congregation ; and to do, perform, and discharge 
all the duties and offices, which of right belong to any 
other minister of the gospel, or public teacher of piety, 
religion, and morality ; and it is hereby intended, and un- 
derstood, that the authority and rights hereby given to the 
said Mr. John Mumvy, to be our settled ordained minister, 
and public teacher, are to remain in full force, so long as 
he shall continue to preach the word of God, and dispense 



352 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



instructions of piety, religion, and morality, conformable 
to our opinions, and no longer.' 

" The committee then solemnly presented him the Bible, 
saying on its presentation, ' Dear sir, we present yow these 
sacred Scriptures as a solemn seal of your ordination to 
the ministry of the New Testament, and the sole directory 
of your faith and practice.' His acceptance was affecting ; 
as what comes from the heart reaches the heart. 

" 4 With my full soul I thank our merciful God for this 
inestimable gift. With grateful transport I press it to my 
bosom. I receive it as the copy of my Father's Will, 
as the deed of an incorruptible inheritance ; as the unerr- 
ing guide to my feet, and lantern to my paths. Dear, 
precious treasure, thou hast been my constant support in 
eveiy trying hour, and a never-failing source of true con- 
solation. I thank you, most sincerely do I thank you, for 
this confirming seal, this sure directory ; and I pray that 
the Spirit which dictated these sacred pages, may enable me 
to make the best use thereof." A sermon by Mr. Murray, 
from Luke v. 2, succeeded, ' The harvest is great, but the 
laborei are few,' etc. etc. 

" Tt solemnity, attention, and Christian demeanor that 
attend* the whole transaction of the ordination, and every 
other o mrrence of the day, gave universal satisfaction to 
a numr »us audience." 

Day >f tranquillity now succeeded ; weeks, months, nay, 
years, ' led on, and harmony, unbroken harmony, presided. 
Keligic shed her balmy influence, her mind-irradiating, 
passioi subduing consolations ; and we were ready to say, 
stability dwelleth even in our times. But, alas ! we too 
soon experienced that " bliss, sublunary bliss," was not the 
durable possession of mortality. 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MUERAY. 



853 



It was in this interval of most pleasant memory, that Mr. 
Murray, in the summer of the year 1790, then on a visit to 
his Pennsylvania,* Jersey, and New York connections, was 



* In a letter to her parents written by Mrs. Murray from Philadelphia, June 19, 
1790, she speaks of the position of Universalism in that city : " The sentiments 
of the Universalists are growing every day more respectable in this city. The 
family of Dr. Franklin are among the foremost of our favorers. Mrs. Bache, 
the doctor's daughter, says it was her father's opinion, that no system in the 
Christian world was so effectually calculated to promote the interests of society, 
as that doctrine which shows a God reconciling a lapsed world unto himself. 
The Philadelphians are exceedingly anxious to fix Mr. Murray among them. 
At first a genteel house, rent free for life, with a salary of £'200 a year, was pro- 
posed to him. They now propose £250; and finally they add, if he will pledge 
his word to return to them as soon as he can adjust his affairs at the eastward, 
they will ensure him, exclusive of his house-rent, a yearly income of £400 [or 
$1,066.07]. The church belonging to the Universalists in this metropolis, not 
being spacious enough to contain the number who flock to hear him, application 
was made to the Rev. Dr. Smith, Provost, or President of the college or academy, 
for the use of a building belonging to it, and known by the name of the College 
Hall. A special meeting of the trustees was, upon this occasion, called, and 
unanimous consent obtained. Dr. Smith sent a message, requesting Mr. Mur- 
ray's attendance at his house. Mr. M , you will not doubt, obeyed the sum- 
mons, when he was escorted to the Hall by the President and Professors, who 
waited upon him to the pulpit stairs, and then took their seats in the assembly. 
Mr. — , after delivering a discourse, did not immediately appoint a future 
lecture. The President addressed him : 1 Sir, I expected you would ' ave pub- 
lished other opportunities ; for you must know, that the use of the H is yours, 
when, and as frequently, as you please. 7 And accordingly in the c. ;e of the 
week, large and respectable audiences are collected there. Besides *e Presi- 
dent, Messrs. Magaw, Rogers, Bond, Macdual, and Andrews, rcgul. iy attend, 

and Mr. M receives from them the utmost politeness i Sunday 

3Ir. M is at the Lodge, the church of the Universalists [situated- i Second 

Street, where the Pennsylvania Bank now stands]. The Rev. Dr. B » is a Con- 
firmed convert to Universalism. Relly is his oracle ; though I was i rmed by 
Dr. Bush, that he has in many respects gone beyond, reconciling JFicultie.3 
whijh Relly had not attempted. Dr. Uush is a man of sense and let s, and is 
well known in the medical and literary world. I am happy that I ca lameDr. 
Rush as an open, avowed professor of, and ornament to, the religion of Jesus. 
Addressing Mr. M this morning, with much candor he thus expressed him- 
self: ' Why, my dear sir, you have stood much alone; how have you buffeted 
the storm? What a torrent of prejudice, tradition, malevolence, and calumny 
you have had to encounter 1 Twenty years ago I heard your name. You were 
23 



354 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



by the Universalists convened in the city of Philadelphia, 
associated with Mr. William Eugene Imley, to present an 
address to the immortal Washington, then President of 
the United States. 

%* [I suppose this to have been the time at which Mr. 
Murray visited the grave of his " earliest American friend," 
Thomas Potter. His reflections at that event are recorded 
in his " Letters and Sketches," vol. i. pp. 334-341. The 
circumstance deserves a place in his " Life ; " and would, 
in all probability, have been introduced by himself, had he 
been permitted to have filled up the narrative to the time 
of his sickness. He carried it forward only to the close of 
the year 1774, — the remainder was written by his widow. 
We shall take the liberty to introduce the.passages here. 

" My ride to this place has been very disagreeable, the 
heat so intense, and the sand so deep, and no hospitable 

friend P- in view. Dear, honored friend, the first 

patron with which I was blessed in this New World, how 
indulgent wert thou to me ! — with how much benevolence 
didst thou cherish me, when a stranger in thy mansion, and 
how didst thou labor for my advancement ! 

" Many aged persons, who were in the habit of attend- 
ing my labors, have visited me. They express their honest 
sensibility in a variety of waj^s ; but all are overjo} T ed to 
see me. They are solicitous to pour into my ear the story 
of their accumulated sufferings. They imagine they shall 
reap pleasure from commiseration ; yet what, alas ! can 

preaching in Bachelor's Hall. No consideration would have induced me to have 
come within a mile of the place ; and had I met you in the street, I should not 
have conceived it could have been you, except I had found you with the cloven 
foot and with horns . But now how peaceful to myself is the revolution ! The Bi- 
ble is a consistent book, and everything that is excellent it contains.' " — G.L.D. 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



355 



helpless pity do? There is, however, much pleasure in 
communicating our sorrows to a sympathizing friend. 

" I am now in the house that once belonged to the ven- 
erable P , to my friend P — — . I am not, however, an 

occupant of the same apartment which he fitted up for my 
use, and directed me to consider as my own. That apart- 
ment, and the greater part of the house, is devoted to 
those who loved not him, and knew not me. Alas ! what 
is this world? How often we thus exclaim, thus ask, 
because we imagine it is not what it should be. Were it 
under our direction it would be better managed ; but it is 
not, nor never will be. One thing is certain, on life there 
is little or no dependence. This dear man, this American 
1 man of ross,' was suddenly snatched from the scenes of 
time, deprived instantly of reason, and in a few hours of 
life. ' His soul proud science never taught to stray.' But 
he was a gem of the first quality, and notwithstanding the 
crust, which from his birth enfolded him, yet by the rubs he 
suffered from the pebbles among which he was placed, this 
crust was so far broken as to emit, upon almost ever}?- 
occasion, the native splendor of his intellect. Had this 
man in early life received the culture of nature's hand- 
maid, what a luminous figure he would have made ! But 
the God of nature had stamped upon his soul the image of 
himself, unbounded benevolence. 

"I reached this place yesterday evening; the sun was 
just setting, and as I passed through the well-known fields, 
and saw them rich and flourishing in all the pride of nature, 
I felt an irrational kind of anger glow at my heart, that 
those fields should look so exceeding gay, when their 
master had taken an everlasting leave of every terrestrial 
scene. The depression upon my spirits, as I reached the 



356 



LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY, 



house, was indescribable. I beheld one and another, whose 
faces I had never before seen. An ugly mastiff growled at 
me as I passed ; and this is the first time, said I, that I 
was ever growled at, in this place, bj any of thy kind ; 
but he was soon silenced by a lad who was brought up by 
my friend. 4 Lord bless me ! — Is not this Mr. Murray? * 
■ — ' Why, Matt, do 3 7 ou remember me ? ' — ' Remember j~ou 7 
sir? Remember Mr. Murray? Yes, indeed, sir.' — 'This 
clog does not, Matt ! ' — 'But lie would if he had lived in 
master's time ; but he is a stranger.' — ' They are all 
strangers, Matt, are they not?' — 'Indeed they are all, 
but my mistress and myself.' — ' And where is your mis- 
tress, Matt? ' — 'I will call her, sir.' — ■ 4 No, my good lad, 
not yet. What have you for my horse ? ' — 4 Nothing but 

grass.' — 4 Nothing at Mr. P 's but grass ? ' — ' Ah ! sir., 

it is not now the house of Mr. P — — .' — 4 True, true, true. 
Leave me, my good lad, leave me.' 

44 1 walked round the house, entered every avenue, looked 
at my garden ; it was made for me. The trees-, the flower- 
ing shrubs, have run wild, and the whole surface of the 
spot is covered with weeds. This pleased me ; just so I 
would have it. 

44 This is the tree planted by my own hand. How 
flourishing ! But where is the other, planted directly 
opposite at the same moment, by my friend? Alas ! like its 
planter, dead ! On this very spot I first saw the philan- 
thropist. 4 Can you assist me, sir ? ' — c Yes, sir.' — 4 On what 
terms ? ' — 4 1 receive no pa} r ment, sir. He who gave to me 
did not charge me anything ; you are welcome at the price/ 
Here our acquaintance commenced ; but it i3 ended, at 
least in the present state. I shall see him no more on 
this side eternity. On this seat we sat 7 and there the teair 



LIhE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



357 



of transport rolled down his furrowed cheek when we con- 
versed upon that redemption which is in Christ Jesus. 
Under that oak we have frequently sat, contemplating the 
shadow from the heat, the hiding-place from the storm. 
At yonder gate he bid me farewell, and wiped his venerable 
eye. At yonder gate I turned, he waved his hand, — 4 God 
Almighty bless 3 r ou ; you will come again. Forget not 
your friends, your ancient friend.' — 4 If I do, 5 said my 
heart, ' may my right hand forget its cunning.' But I 
forgot thee, good old man, too long I forgot thee ! And 
now that I am at last returned, thou art not here to bid 
me, in the politest, that is, in the sincerest manner, 
welcome. 

" Mrs. P approached. She lifted up her hands and 

eyes in speechless anguish, seated herself, changed color — 
no matter — the worst is past. I have visited the meeting- 
house reared by his hand for the worship of his God. It 
is embosomed in a grove of stately oaks, all trimmed, and 
in beautiful order. Under this shade reposeth the man by 
whom the house was raised, by whom the grove was planted. 
I beheld his grave. It was not a marble, a hard marble, 
that informed me whose dust lay there ; it was a feeling 
mechanic, who, having experienced much kindness from the 
deceased, wept when he told me that spot contained the 
dead. I carefully examined the grave, to see if any weeds 
grew there. No, no, they had no business there. I could 
not pluck a noxious nettle from his grave. There grew 
upon it a few wild flowers, emblematic of the mind that 
once inhabited this insensate clay. At the foot of the 
grave stands the most majestic and flourishing of all the 
oaks which surround the grave. It was once on the point 
of falling a sacrifice to the axe-man, but my friend solicited 



358 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY* 



for its continuance, pronouncing that it would flourish when 
he should sleep beside it. And having thus rescued it, 
added my informant, he has since paid it particular atten- 
tion, which is the reason of its so far surpassing the other 
trees. 

"Peace, peace to thy spirit, thou friendly, feeling, faith- 
ful man ! Thy dust is laid np to rest, near the house thou 
didst build for God, but thy spirit rests with God in the 
house built by him for thee, and though our dust may not 
meet again, our spirits will meet and rejoice together in 
those regions of blessedness, where pain can find no en- 
trance, where death can no more usurp dominion, where no 
tear of sorrow shall ever dim the jo3 r -brightened eye, for we 
shall part no more forever. I said there was no nettle on 
this grave. One thing, however, was very remarkable. A 
gourd had crept along until it came to, and spread over, his 
grave, mixing its foliage with the sweet-scented flowers 
that grew thereon. 

" Never was place better calculated for melancholy mus- 
ing than this spot, so thick the grove around. The little 
neat graveyard at the end, the shutters of the house for 
public worship all closed up, the lonely situation inviting 
the birds, — their music serves to mellow the scene ; all, all, 
is most truly for solemn meditation fit. 

" By the following article in the will of my deceased 
friend, this house of worship becomes nry property : — 

" ' The house built by me for the worship of God, it is my 
will that God be worshipped in it still, and fortius purpose 
I will that my ever dear friend, Mr. John Murray, preacher 
of the gospel shall possess it, having the sole direction, 
disposal, and management of said house, and one acre of 
land upon which it stands, and by which it is surrounded/ 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



359 



In this house of worship I have once more preached. 
It is full two years since divine service has been performed 
there. I selected for my subject, 1 Corinthians vi. 20 : 
* For ye are bought with a price : therefore glorify God in 
your body, and in your spirit, which are God's.' " 

At the close of this sermon Mr. Murray adverted in the 
following terms to the character of Mr. Potter : — 

" Through } T onder open casement, I behold the grave of 
a man, the recollection of whom swells my heart with grati- 
tude, and fills my eyes with tears. There sleeps the sacred 
dust of him who well understood the advantages resulting 
from the public worship of the true God. There rests the 
ashes of him who glorified God in his body, and in his 
spirit, which he well knew were the Lord's. He believed 
he was bought with a price, and therefore he declared that 
all he was, and had, were righteously due to the God who 
had created, and purchased him with a price all price be- 
yond. There rests the precious dust of the friend of 
strangers, whose hospitable doors were ever open to the 
destitute, and him who had none to relieve his sufferings. I 
myself was once thrown on these shores, a desolate stran- 
ger. This Christian man brought me to his habitation. 
' God,' said he, ' hath blessed me ; he has given me more than 
a competency, and he has given me a heart to devote my- 
self, and all that I have, to him. I have built a place for 
his name and worship. I would,' continued the faithful man, 
' erect this temple uryself, with what God had given me. My 
neighbors would have lent their aid ; but I refused assist- 
ance from any one. I would myself build the house, that 
God might be worshipped without contention, without in- 
terruption ; that he might be worshipped by all whom he 
should vouchsafe to send.' 



360 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURK AY. 



l< This elegant house, my friends, the first friends who 
hailed my arrival in this country, this elegant house, with 
its adjoining grove, is yours. The faithful founder be- 
queathed it to me, that none of you may be deprived of it. 
His dust reposes close to this monument of his piety ; he 
showed you by his life what it was to glorify God in body 
and spirit ; and he has left 3 7 ou this house that you may 
assemble here together, listen to the voice, and unite to 
chant the praises of the God who created, who has bought 
you with a price, and who will preserve you. 

" Dear, faithful man ! when last I stood in this place, he 
was present among the assembly of the people. I marked 
his glistening eye ; it always glistened at the emphatic 
name of Jesus. Even now I behold in imagination his ven- 
erable countenance ; benignity is seated on his brow ; his 
mind is apparently open and confiding ; tranquillity reposeth 
upon his features, and the expression of each varying emo- 
tion evinceth that faith which is the parent, of enduring 
peace, of that peace which passeth understanding. 

" Let us, my friends, imitate his philanthropy, his piety, 
his charity. I may never again meet you, until we unite to 
swell the loud hallelujahs before the throne of God. But 
to hear of your faith, of your perseverance, of your brother- 
ly love, of your works of charit} T , will heighten ray enjoy- 
ments, and soothe my sorrows, even to the verge of my 
mortal pilgrimage. Accept my prayers in your behalf, 
and let us unite to supplicate our common God and Father 
for the mighty blessing of his protection." T. W.] 

And now a large number of Mr. Murray's first friends in 
Gloucester were numbered with the dead. He had himself 
again become the head of a family. The times were op- 



LIFE VF REV. JOHN MVURAY. 



361 



pressive, and he considered it his duty to provide for those 
«of whom he had taken charge. The Bostonians were solicit- 
ous to hail the preacher as their settled pastor ; and it was 
certain his usefulness would, in the metropolis, be more ex- 
tensive. A partial separation from the Gloucesterians w T as^ 
by mutual consent, effectuated. It was, however, stipulated-, 
that Mr. Murra}' should occasionally visit them, and that 
the}' should be allowed to command his presence, upon 
every distressing or important exigence ; and the distance 
being no more than an eas}' ride of a few hours, the adjust- 
ment was accomplished without much difficult}-. Yet did 
the preacher continue dissatisfied, until the establishment 
of his successor, in the midst of his long-loved and early 
friends. 

The Rev. Mr. Thomas Jones, a native of Wales, whom 
he had induced, by his representations, to unite with him 
in his American mission, is a gentleman of great respecta- 
bility, of the purest morals, and high in the ranks of integ- 
rity. Mr. Jones was educated at the college established 
b} r the Countess of Huntington ; in which connection he 
continued until his attachment to the doctrines of the gos- 
pel, in their most unlimited import, became the signal for 
bis exclusion. The installation of Mr. Jones, in Glouces- 
ter, gladdened the heart of the philanthropic preacher, and 
Iris satisfaction was complete. The Gloucesterians love 
and respect their pastor, and their unanimity is unbroken. 
They have erected a new and elegant house of worship. 
Tn Salem also, and in Portsmout h and Charlestown, in New 
York and Philadelphia, commodious buildings are reared 
to the honor of God our Saviour.- 

On Wednesday, 23d of October, 1793, the installation of 
Mr. Murray took place in the Universal meeting-house in 



362 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



Boston ; the presiding deacon (Oliver "W. Lane) addressed 
the church and congregation : — 

" Brethren, it having pleased the Father of mercies to 
unite in bonds of Christian love and affection the hearts of 
the people usually worshipping in this place, in the choice 
of Mr. John Murray for their pastor and teacher ; we have 
accordingly assembled together at this time and place, for 
the solemn purpose of ratifying here below what we hum- 
bly trust is already recorded in heaven. It is the duty of 
all men, at all times, and in all places, humbly to implore 
the direction of the great Head of the church, in all their 
lawful undertakings." (Then followed ^n appropriate prayer 
by Mr. Murray.) After which, the deacon demanded of 
the church and congregation, as they had heretofore ex- 
pressed their desire that Mr. Murra} r should become their 
pastor and teacher, if, at this time they continued of that 
mind, they would publicly confirm it, b} r vote — , which was 
unanimous. He then requested Mr. Murray's answer, 
which being given in the affirmative, he concluded his ad- 
dress : " I, therefore, in the name and behalf of this church 
and congregation, — supported by the constitution of this 
Commonwealth, — declare you, John Murray, to be the pas- 
tor and teacher of this First Universal Church in Boston ; 
and in their name I present unto you the Sacred Volume, 
as the rule of your faith and practice, and as containing a 
perfect and complete revelation of the perfections and will 
of God ; and I furthermore declare unto } t ou, that so long 
as 3^011 continue to preach the gospel as delineated in these 
sacred pages, which is glad tidings of great joy to every 
creature, as the purchase of the blood of Immanuel, so 
long you shall be considered as our pastor, and no longer. 
And now, dearly beloved sir, ' I charge thee, therefore, 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



363 



before God and the Lord Jesus Christ, who shall judge the 
quick and the dead at his appearing, and his kingdom, to 
preach the word, be instant in season, out of season ; re- 
prove, rebuke, exhort, with all longsufTering, and doctrine. 
In all things showing thyself a pattern of good works ; in 
doctrine showing uncorruptness, gravity, sincerity, sound 
speech that cannot be condemned ; that he that is of the con- 
trary part may be ashamed, having no evil thing to say of 
you. A workman that necdeth not to be ashamed, rightly 
dividing the word of truth.' And now, sir, commending 
you with the church and congregation, over which the Holy 
Ghost hath made you overseer to the care and protection 
of Him 4 that loved us and washed us from our sins in his 
own blood/ earnestly beseeching Him to build us all up 
in unity of the one Spirit and in the bond of peace, — now 
unto Him who is abundantly able to perforin all these things 
for us, and to present us all faultless before the throne of 
an Infinite Majest3 T , be all honor, glory, dominion, and 
power, throughout the ages of time, and a wasteless eter- 
nity. Amen." 

Mr. Murray's reply was animated and replete with affec- 
tion ; after which, a hymn was performed b}^ the choir of 
singers, accompanied by the organ. Next, an excellent 
discourse by Mr. Murray, from 1 Cor. ix. 16 : " For though 
I preach the gospel, I have nothing to glory of ; for necessity 
is laid upon me ; } T ea, woe is unto me if I preach not the 
gospel." A collection for the distressed inhabitants of 
Philadelphia succeeded the sermon, and an anthem suited 
to the solemnities of the occasion was most admirably 
chanted. The whole was conducted with strict decorum, 
to the satisfaction of a very numerous, respectable, and at- 
tentive audience. 



304 



LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURE AT. 



Perhaps no congregation were ever more unanimous, and 
more perfectly satisfied with the pastor of their election, 
than were the people worshipping in the church in Bennet 
Street ; and perhaps no minister was eyer more unfeignedly 
attached to the people of his charge than was the long- 
wandering preacher. Both the minister and congregation 
might truly be said to worship the Most High in the beauty 
of holiness. The ordinance of the Lord's Supper was ad- 
ministered agreeably to their ideas of its genuine import, 
Parents brought their children into the great congregation, 
standing in the broad aisle, in the presence of the worship- 
pers of God. The father received the babe from the hands 
of the mother, and presented it to the servant of God ; who, 
deriving his authority for this practice from the example 
of his Eecleemer, who says, t; Suffer little children to come 
unto me," etc., etc., pronounced aloud the name of the child, 
and received it as a member of the mystical body of him 
who is the second Adam, the Redeemer of men. How often 
has his paternal heart throbbed with rapture, as he has 
most devoutly repeated, " We dedicate thee to Him, to 
whom thou properly belongest, to be baptized with his own 
baptism, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of 
the Holy Ghost ; and we pronounce upon thee that blessing 
which he commanded his ministers, Moses, Aaron, and his 
sons, to pronounce upon his people, saying, ' The Lord bless 
thee and keep thee ; the Lord make his face to shine upon 
thee, and be gracious unto thee ; the Lord lift up his coun- 
tenance upon thee, and give thee peace/ " * 

* Mr. Murray rejeeted the practice of infant sprinkling. To him is to bs attrit> 
uted the ceremony of dedication which has obtained so generally in the TJniver- 
salist church. His sentiments on this subject will be found scattered through his 
u Letters and Sketches." The following is a slight conversation concerning 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



365 



The preacher, however, never surrendered the persua- 
sion that he was sent oat to preach the gospel, and his 
visits to his far-distant friends were frequentty repeated ; 

ordinances, which passed between Mr. Murray and Rev. Elhanan Winchester, 
shortly after their first interview : — 

" I have had some conversation with Mr. W r . on the subject of ordinances. 

" W. You do not use water baptism, I think, Mr. M. 

" IT. No, sir; we listen to the Baptist, and we hear him say, 1 1 indeed baptize 
you with water unto repentance, but he who cometh after me is mightier than I ; 
he shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost and with fire.' We know that John 
the Baptist pointed in this passage to the Redeemer, and we prefer his baptism to 
that of his harbinger ; nor can we advocate a plurality of baptisms, when we 
hear the apostle say, there is but one Lord, and one baptism. 

" W. And the Lord's Supper, — you lay that aside also. 

" M. No, sir ; we esteem this as a divine privilege; which, while life is lent, 
we shall religiously maintain, and that too in the way our Lord directed his dis- 
ciples to use it. 1 As oft as ye eat this bread and drink this cup, do it in remem- 
brance of me.' In the symbolic elements we behold the gathering together the 
many in one. 

" ir. Ay, ay, I have seen all that can be said on that subject in a piece written 
by a lady. Had you no hand in that performance ? 

" M. No, sir, not a single letter, not a point, either directly or indirectly, ever 
was furnished by me. 

" W. I never doubted its being the performance of a lady. 

" M. Why, sir? 

" W. Why, sir, I know no man who could have written so well. I never was 
better pleased with the manner of a piece in my life; there is that sprightly, easy, 
flowery flow of expression that is more characteristic of a female pen than that 
of a male. 

" M. Is it not amazing that it has not been attacked ? 

" JF. Not at all, sir; what a despicable wretch must he be, who, however he 
may be opposed to the sentiment, would dare to draw his pen against the author 
of that preface, in which she declares her resolution of retiring into her closet in 
the event of an attack, and answering her opponent with silence. I never read 
a more charming composition than that preface in my life. I should be exceed- 
ing glad to seethe author. 

** AT. I assure you, sir, she has a strong predilection in your favor; for, to 
6peak plainly, she is almost as warm an advocate for the devil as yourself. 

" W. I like her the better for it. 

11 M. Why, really, it is much to her honor, for the enemy has been a malignant 
enemy to her, and done her much injury; and yet, in the same moment that she 
is as much unlike him as possible, she cannot hear of his being cursed through 



366 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



yet these visits were always made by the assenting voice 
of the societ3 T , and he regarded every individual congre- 
gated under his directing auspices, as in an essential and 

the wasteless ages of eternity, but, like Captain Sh©ndy r she hesitates not to 
commiserate his destiny. 

" TV. Would I could see her f But I have no business to contemplate anything 
Beneath the- skies. I am like a prisoner fa momentary expectation of a car* 
tel, which is to take me to my native- country." — Letters, etc., i. 350", 351. 

In the following, Mr. Murray speaks directly of the' origin of the ceremony of 

dedication : — 

" You ask an account of the ceremony I hare originated, Instead of infant 
sprinkling. On my first appearance in this country, during my residence in the 
State of New Jersey, I was requested, as the phrase is, to christen the children; 
©f my hearers. I asked them what was their design in making such, a proposal? 
to me? When they replied, they only wished to do their duty. 'How, my 
friends, 7 returned I, ' came you to believe infant sprinkling a duty ? r — ' Why,, 
is it not a command of God to- sprinkle infants ? ' — ' If you will, from Scripture' 
authority, produce any warrant sufficient to authorise me to- baptize children, I 
will immediately, as in duty bound, submit thereto. Our Saviour sprinkled no- 
infant with water; those who were baptized by his harbinger plunged into the 
Hiver Jordan, which plunging was figurative of the ablution by which we are 
cleansed in the blood of our Saviour ; but infants are not plunged in a river. 

" ' Paul declares he was not sent to baptize, and he thanks God that he had 
baptized so few ; nor does it appear that among those few there were any infants- 
It is not a solitary instance to find a "whole household without a babe. The 
eunuch conceived it necessary there should be much water for the performance 
of the rite of baptism ; all this seems to preclude the idea of sprinkling and of 
infant baptism ; and it is said that whole centuries passed by, after the commence- 
ment of the Christian era, before the sprinkling of a single infant. I am, how- 
ever, commencing a long journey; many months will elapse before my return,, 
I pray you' to search the Scriptures during my absence; and if, when we meet 
again, you can point out the chapter and verse wherein my God has commanded 
his ministers to sprinkle infants, I will immediately prepare myself to yield aw 
unhesitating obedience.' I pursued my journey, — I returned to New J ersey, my 
then home, — but no authority could be produced from the sacred writings for 
infant sprinkling. Stili, however, religious parents were uneasy, and piously 
anxious to give testimony, public testimony, of their reliance upon and confidence' 
in the God of their salvation. Many, perhaps, were influenced by the fashions 
of this world ; but some, I trust, by considerations of a higher origin. 

" I united with my friends in acknowledging that when God had blessed them? 
&y putting into their hands and under their care one of the members of his body 



LIFE OF REV. JOBtf AW Ml AY. 



solemn sense his children. A gentleman attending in the 
church in Bennet Street, addressing Mr. Murray by letter 9 
thus observes : " I was very much pleased at your meet- 
ing ; the orderly, respectable, and serious demeanor of your 
society ? their silent and fixed attention upon } T ou 5 pene- 

which he had purchased with his precious blood, it seemed proper and reasona- 
ble that they should present the infant to the God who gave it, asking his aid in 
the important duty Which had devolved upon them, and religiously confessing, 
by this act, their obligation to and dependence on the Father of all worlds. Yet 
■we could not call an act of this kind baptism ; we believe there is but one baptism ; 
and this, because the Spirit of God asserts, by the Apostle Paul, that there is but 
one baptism, and the idea of this single baptism is corroborated by the class in 
Which we find it placed. * One Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father 
of all, who is above all, and through all, and in you all. 1 Ephesians iv., 5, 6. 
After much deliberation I proposed, and many of my hearers have adopted, the fol- 
lowing mode : The parent or parents (I am always best pleased when both parents 
unite) bring their children into the great congregation, and stand in the broad 
aisle, in the presence of the worshippers of God. The father, receiving the babe 
from the arms of the mother, presents it to the servant of God, who statedly 
ministers at his altar. The ambassador of Christ receives it in his arms, deriv 
ing his authority for this practice from the example of the Redeemer, who says, 
* Suffer little children to come unto me, for of such is the kingdom of heaven. 7 
The minister, therefore, taking the infant from its father, who gives him, as he 
presents it, the name of the child, proclaims aloud : 4 John or Mary, we receive 
thee as a member of the mystical body of him who is the second Adam, the Re- 
deemer of men, the Lord from heaven. "We dedicate thee to him, to whom thou 
properly belongest, to be baptized with his own baptism, in the name of the 
Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost; and we pronounce upon thee that 
blessing which he commanded his ministers, Moses, Aaron, and his sons, to 
pronounce upon his people, saying: — 
44 4 The Lord bless thee and keep thee; 

" ' The Lord make his face to shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee; 

»* 4 The Lord lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.' 

44 For this procedure we have the command, the express command of God. 
Our reason and our religion concur to approve the solemnity, and our hearts arc 
at peace. 

44 The Lord, we repeat, hath commanded us to bless the people. God himself 
pronounced this blessing upon all the people, in the iirst Adam, when he placed 
him in the garden of Eden, and blessing and cursing came not from the same 
mouth upon the same characters. God, our God, is the ever^blessing God; nor 
are blessings given only to the deserving. The blessings of providence and of 
grace are freely bestowed upon the evil and the unthankful ; and when the evil 



368 



life of ttEV. jonxr Murray. 



trated me with sentiments of attachment and satis- 
faction, and I forbore not to invoke the providence of 
God, that no froward or adverse spirit should interrupt 
the harmony which now so evidently subsists between 
you." 

Yes, it is indeed true that Mr. Murray considered the 
interests of the people of his charge as his own. Most 
fondly did lie cherish, and perse veringly did he seek by 
every possible means to advance their reputation. He 
sympathized with the afflicted, and largely partook their 
sorrows : while, so often as the course of events brought joy 
to their bosoms, his eye beamed gladness, and his tongue 
exulted to dwell upon facts which illumined the hours of 
his protracted pilgrimage. His voice at the bed of death 
was the herald of consolation. Are there not uncounted 
numbers, still passing on in this vale of tears, who, while 
attending upon their expiring relatives, have witnessed the 
divine effects emanating from the luminous understanding 
of the preacher, and lighting up a blissful smile of antici- 
pated felicity, amid the agonies of dissolving nature ? To 
the aged he delighted to administer consolation ; his pres- 
ence gave a face of cheerfulness to those social hours, 
which the numerous classes with whom he mingled were 
wont to appropriate to enjoyment. Children lisped with in- 
fantile transport the name of the philanthropic preacher, 

and the unthankful obtain the knowledge of this truth, they earnestly sigh to be 
good, to be grateful. 

" But the ever-blessed God not only blessed the people in their first general 
head, but in that seed, which is Christ. In thy seed, sail the Lord Jehovah, 
shall the families, all the families of the earth be blessed. This was a royal 
grant. We are not in general sufficiently attentive to this particular. It is 
common to talk of being blessed by, and some say through, Christ, but few, very 
few, ever think of being blessed in Christ." — Sketches, etc., ii. 366-368. 

See also " Letters and Sketches," iii. 345. T. W. 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



369 



and they were even eloquent in expressions of unfeigned 
attachment. The pleasures of young people, if under the 
dominion of innocence, were uniformly sanctioned by their 
preacher ; and his appearance in well-regulated circles of 
hilarity, so far from clouding, was alwa} T s considered as the 
harbinger of high-wrought entertainment. If we except a 
single instance, we do not know that, through a series of 
revolving years, the harmony subsisting between the minis- 
ter and his congregation suffered either interruption or 
diminution. This instance originated in political pertinac- 
ity. Party spirit occasionally ran very high ; and federal 
and democratic leaders were among the adherents of Mr. 
Murray. A July oration was to be delivered ; much invidious 
disquisition was afloat ; but it is fruitless to delineate ; suf- 
fice it to say, that this oration and its consequences were 
pregnant with anguish to an oft-stricken heart ; but, blessed 
be God ! the threatening aspect of affairs which seemed to 
gather darkness was soon dispersed, and the sun of right- 
eousness seemed to break forth with renewed splendor. 
Nor is it wonderful that transient animosities existed ; it is 
rather astonishing they were not more frequent. It was 
truly affecting, it was beautiful, and eminently consolatorv, 
to behold persons of the warmest feelings and strongest 
prejudices, depositing every dissenting, eveiy foreign sen- 
timent at the foot of the cross, meeting, and mingling 
souls, and emphatically, although tacitly, saying to every 
minor consideration, ' 4 Tarry ye here, while we go up to 
worship." 

Too soon have the years of felicity fled awaj T . They rise 
to view like the vision of some blissful era, which we have 
imagined, not idealized. Suddenl\ T we were aroused from 
our dream of security ; the torpid hand of palsy blighted 
24 



370 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



our dearest hopes: the preacher, the head, the husband, 
the father, was in a moment precipitated from a state of 
high health, and prostrated beneath the tremendous stroke 
of the fell destroyer. 



CHAPTER VIII. 



RECORD CONTINUED FROM OCTOBER, 1809, TO SEPTEMBER, 
1815, INCLUDING THE CLOSING SCENE. 

Portentously the dense, dark cloud arose ; 

Long was the night, surcharged with clustering woes ; 

But, blest Religion, robed in spotless white, 

With torch of faith, pointing to realms of light, 

Marched splendid on ; wide o'er the brightening way, 

Leading the saint to never-ending day. 

It was upon the nineteenth day of October, 1809, 
that the fatal blow was given to a life so valuable, so 
greatly endeared, so truly precious ; but, although the 
corporeal powers of the long active • preacher became 
so far useless as to render him as helpless as a new- 
born babe ; although he was indeed a complete cripple, 
yet the saint still lingered ;* was still detained by 

* Mr. Murray was present at the installation of Rev. Edward Turner, and the 
dedication of the new church at Salem, June 22, 1809, within three months of his 
paralysis. He was verging upon seventy years of age, and was already " weak 
and feeble." He "made the dedicatory prayer, which melted with unison 
every heart." Rev. George Richards, of Portsmouth, who was just about remov- 
ing to Philadelphia, preached the sermon of dedication. He was a man of great 
oratorical gifts. Mr. Murray " watched him closely, with a tearful eye." As Mr. 
Richards " drew towards the end of the discourse, which was very long, he 
turned round toward Father Murray, seized his hand, and cried out in the lan- 
guage of Elisha to the ascending Elijah, ' My father, my father, the chariot of 
Israel and the horsemen thereof!' The salutation was so sudden, and Father 
Murray's strength had been so much impaired by age and sickness, that he shook 
with emotion while the speaker continued his very rapturous address. ' Mr. 
Murray gave the charge to the pastor-elect. After his prostration by paralysis, 

371 



372 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



the all-wise decree of the Most High, a prisoner in his clay- 
built tenement, nor did his complete beatification take 
place until the Sabbath morning of September 3, 1815, 
lacking only a few days of six complete years. Yet was 
his patience, so far as we have known, unexampled. No 
murmur against the inflictions of Heaven escaped his lips ; 
praises of his paternal Creator were still found upon his 
tongue, and the goodness of his God continued his endur- 
ing theme. Unwavering in his testimony, he repeatedly 
and most devoutly said, 44 No man on earth is under so 
many obligations to Almighty God as myself; yes, I will 
adore the great Source of being so long as I shall exist, 
and every faculty of my soul shall bless my redeeming Cre- 
ator." • Yet, it is true that, when the once cheerful Sabbath 
bells vibrated upon his ear, he would frequently lift towards 
heaven a humid eye, and mournfully articulate, " Alas ! 
alas ! it is not with me as heretofore, when I could hear the 
tribes devoutly say, 4 Up, Israel, to the temple haste, and 
keep this festal day.' " Soon, however, his mind was hushed 
to peace by calm and firm confidence in his God, and he 
would add, " Well, well, when I awake in thy likeness, I 
shall be satisfied. We are asleep in the present state ; we 
are asleep in the likeness of the earthly man ; all our un- 
easy sensations are unpleasant dreams. Pleasures, derived 
from mere terrestrial enjoyments, detached from intellect, 
are also dreams, and, like the baseless fabric of a vision, 
shall not leave a wreck behind. But if my life have been a 
continued sleep, and the greater part of my pains and pleas- 

though " almost as helpless as a babe, he sometimes appeared at church; but he 
must have been actually borne in by his friends. He was present at the installa- 
tion of Mr. Dean," as his colleague, " in August, 1813." — WMttemore's Life of 
Ballou. — G. L. D. 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



373 



ures dreams ; yet, while this deep sleep has been upon me, 
the Almighty hath instructed me; yes, blessed be his name, 
the roof of his mouth is as the best wine, ivhich goeth down 
sweetly, causing the lips of those who are asleep to speak. 
Oh! for more of this best wine, that my lips may show forth 
his praise, that I may drink and forget all sorrow." 

Thus was the tenor of his mind generally acquiescent 
and his impatience to be gone was frequently subdued by 
an operative conviction of the sovereign wisdom, as well 
as paternal love, of Deit}'. His Bible was his constant 
companion. Seated by his affectionate assistant in his 
easy-chair, and the book of God opened before him, the 
man of patience, during six succeeding years, passed the 
long summer mornings from the sun's early beams, in ex- 
amining and re-examining the will of his august 
Father. He had, through a long life, been conversant 
with a variety of English authors. Poets, dramatic writers, 
essayists, and historians were familiar to him ; he took 
great delight in perusing them. But, travelling through 
those multiplied pages, might be termed his excursions, 
while the sacred volume was his intellectual home. 
Mairy hours in every day were devoted to the attentive 
perusal of the Scriptures, and } r et his sentiments were un- 
varied ; not a single feature of the system he had so long 
advocated was changed. 

Mr. Murray was fond of calling himself the Lord's 
prisoner ; and he would add, I am, by consequence, a 
prisoner of hope. During his confinement many respect- 
able gentlemen, clergymen in Boston, visited him. One 
or two repeated their visits and they apparently regarded 
the now white-haired servant of God with kindness and 
respect. One clergyman questioned him respecting his 



374: 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



then present views, wishing to ascertain if his faith were 
still in exercise, if he were willing to depart. M Oh, yes, 
yes, yes," exclaimed the long-illumined Christian, " the 
glorious manifestations of divine love still brighten upon 
me. Right precious to my soul are the promises, the oath 
of Jehovah ; and, sir, so far from shrinking from my ap- 
proaching change, my only struggle is for patience to 
abide, until the time appointed for my emancipation. I 
would cultivate a humble, child-like resignation ; but hope 
deferred doth indeed too often make the heart sick." Anoth- 
er gentleman congratulated him on his apparent convales- 
cence. " Oh ! sir," he returned, " the voice of gladness suits 
not my present feelings ; it is as if, when I believed I 
was voyaging to my native shores, where health, happiness, 
and peace awaited me, borne onward by gales the most 
propitious, and supposing myself almost in the moment 
of obtaining the long-desired haven, when suddenly driven 
back by some adverse circumstance, instead of being 
soothed by condolence, I am pierced to the soul by the 
discordant sounds of felicitation." Yet, we repeat, the 
revered teacher was in general astonishingly patient, re- 
signed, and even cheerful. He was frequently heard to 
say that he had experienced, in the course of his con- 
finement, more of the abundant goodness of his God, than 
through the whole of his preceding life ; and those most 
conversant with him could not forbear observing that the 
protracted period which would in prospect have risen to 
the eye with a most melancholy, if not terrific aspect, taken 
as a whole, exhibited the saint more equal, calm, and dig- 
nified, than airy other six }*ears of his existence. A re- 
spectable gentleman, not of his persuasion, but candid and 
benign, remarked, that his character was elevated to no 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



375 



common height ; that his uncomplaining endurance of suf- 
fering, and the unwavering steadfastness of his faith, had 
stamped his testimony with the seal of integrity, and gave 
that confirmation to his confidence in his own views of 
sacred writ, which could not fail of rejoicing the hearts of 
his adherents. 

The chamber of adversity was occasionally illumined by 
the presence of friends; and one sympathizing, kind- 
hearted, affectionate brother was so uniform in his appear- 
ance with the close of every week, that we might almost 
have designated the day and the hour of the evening b}^ 
his approaches. Nor was the demise of his teacher the 
period of his kindness ; his countenance, his aid, his com- 
miseration, his society, are still loaned to the solitary, 
the bereaved family. Dear, faithful man ! May the rich 
blessings of Almighty God rest upon thee and thine, until 
thou hast finished thy mortal career ; and mayest thou, in 
the regions of blessedness, renew, with thy beloved teacher, 
that friendship which, while tenanted in clay, thou hast so 
well known to appreciate. 

To three other gentlemen, devoted adherents to the la- 
mented deceased, warm acknowledgments are, also, most 
righteously due. Their kind, and still continued, atten- 
tions are gratifying proof of their attachment to him, who 
was so dear to them ; and gratitude hath, with mournful 
alacrity, reared her altars in the bosoms of the widow and 
the fatherless. 

Some strange occurrences were noted, which filled the 
heart of the venerable man of God with sorrow, un- 
utterable sorrow. Everything seemed to point home- 
ward to the sky, and upon Lord's day morning, 
August 27, 1815, at four o'clock, an especial sum- 



37G 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



mons was despatched by the Most High, to recall his long- 
tried servant ; but, alas ! we did not recognize the mes- 
senger. We rather believed that the circumstances which 
marked the acknowledged change would look with a 
friendly aspect upon the health of the beloved man during 
the succeeding autumn and winter ; but the honored suf- 
ferer himself, apparently better informed, anticipatingly 
observed, " Who knows? perhaps the liberating hour is 
at hand." And his feelings were always elated or de- 
pressed in exact proportion as the moment of his departure 
seemed to advance or recede. 

The progress of the new disease was astonishingly rapid. 
A physician was summoned, who permitted the indulgence 
of hope. On Tuesday, twenty-ninth, his complaints evidently 
abated, insomuch, that while the features of his strongty 
marked face expressed the deepest mortification, he 
tremulously exclaimed, " Am I, then, once more thrown 
back, the melancholy subject of alternate hope and fear?" 
On Wednesday every symptom increased ; he obtained little 
rest, and hope manifestly triumphed in his bosom. Another 
physician was called in, whose doubtful answers to pro- 
posed questions created much alarm. He seemed to consider 
nature as surrendering her offices. In the course of Thurs- 
day, thirty-first, he repeatedly and earnestly said, " I 
cannot be sufficiently thankful to God my Saviour, that I 
suffer no pain, either of body or mind." To a young, and 
tenderly interested friend, he smilingly observed, "lam 
hastening through the valley of the shadow of death. I 
am about to quit this distempered state ; yet a little mo- 
ment, and I shall be received into the city of the living 
God, with the innumerable company of the apostles, and 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



377 



spirits of just men made perfect, and I shall continue for- 
ever in the presence of my divine Master." 

His family solicited his blessing. "You are blessed," 
he replied, " }-ou are blessed with all the spiritual blessings 
in Christ Jesus ; and, remember," he added, fixing his dying 
e} T es upon them, " remember, that however tried in this 
world, there is another and better state of things ; and 
that, although pierced in this vale of tears by the arrows 
of unkindness and ingratitude, there is One who loveth 
you with an everlasting love, and who will never leave 
you nor forsake you." 

On Friday morning, September 1st, some expressions 
gave positive proof of his sanity ; but as the day advanced 
his derangement was supposed unquestionable, and from 
this hour until Saturday evening a little after sunset 
he continued, with few intervals, incoherently repeating 
the most consolatory passages in the book of God. His 
right hand was constantly in motion, and when any one 
approached, whatever might be the question, the answer 
was ready. " To Him," said the expiring Christian, 

" SHALL THE GATHERING OP THE PEOPLE BE, AND HlS REST 

shall be glorious, glorious, glorious. I am blessed 
with all spiritual blessings in Christ Jesus. Nor I alone, 
Christ Jesus hath tasted death for every man," etc., 
etc. These God-honoring, man-restoring truths were 
audibly articulated, while voice and strength continued ; 
and when speaking only in a whisper to the listening ear 
applied to his moving lips, it was ascertained that the 
same consolatory assurances still dwelt upon his tongue. 
Was this delirium? or, if it were, was it not a delirium 
irradiated by the powerful influence of redeeming love? 
Did not the luminous truths upon which the noble, the 



378 



LIFE OF REV. JO HIT MURRAY. 



capacious mind had so long reposed, beam refulgent over 
the scattering fragments then dissolving, which had for 
a term of more than seventy years embodied the immortal 
tenant ? 

Almost immediately after sunset on Saturday evening 
he ceased to speak. His right hand no longer waved, and 
he continued in the same position in which the enduring 
kindness of his faithful assistant had placed him, until 
six o'clock, Lord's-day morning, September 3, 1815 ; 
when, without a sigh, or a struggle, or a single dis- 
tortion of countenance, he expired. His long-imprisoned 
spirit escaped to the God who gave it. 

It did not appear through the whole of Friday and 
Saturday, that he suffered the least £ain, except when an 
attempt was made to move him. His breath grew shorter 
and shorter, like the sweet sleep of a tired infant, until it 
could no more be distinguished. He departed this life in 
the seventy-fifth year of his age. 

Sacred be the scene which immediately succeeded. We 
do not wish — we attempt not- — to lift the veil ; but we ex- 
ult in the conviction that we shall ere long follow the eman- 
cipated spirit to the abode of blessedness. 

The interment could be deferred only until Monday 
evening, September 4th. Funeral honors were promptly 
and unanimously decreed. The children of the societ}^ dis- 
tinguished by a badge of mourning, preceded the body ; 
a long, solemn, well-ordered, and respectable procession 
followed the train of mourners ; private carriages were 
added to those appointed by the society ; the body was 
deposited upon stands in the aisle of the church ; the 
pulpit and galleries were hung with black ; religious ex- 
ercises were performed ; when it was entombed with the 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



379 



ashes of those to whom he had been fondly attached. 
Everything, which immediately referred to the sacred re- 
mains of the deceased, was liberally provided by the 
religious adherents of the promulgator, and the arrears 
which ivould have been due to the family, had the vote of 
March, 1815, been similar to that of March, 1814, were 
paid to a single farthing.* 

* The funeral discourse was pronounced by Rev. Thomas Jones, of Gloucester, 
and prayers were offered by llev. Hosea Ballou, of Salem, and Rev. Edward 
Turner, of Gloucester. Subsequently a eulogy was pronounced by Mr. Murray's 
colleague, Rev. Paul Dean. — G. L. D. 



CHAPTER IX. 



CONCLUSION. 
And now the feverish dream of life is o'er. 

Had we talents, we would exhibit a portrait of the de- 
ceased ; but, besides that we feel ourselves inadequate to 
a task so arduous, we are not perfectly convinced of its 
propriety. Friendship might be too warm, and admiration 
too lavish. His colleague has been his eulogist, and no 
friend of the deceased will pronounce the panegyric an ex- 
aggeration. Perhaps it does not contain a more just, or a 
more happy paragraph than the following: "Without a 
second to aid him, j'ou saw him pass along these shores 
from Maryland to New Hampshire, like the lonely pelican 
of the wilderness, publishing, as with the voice of an angel, 
the tidings of everlasting life to the whole world, in the 
name, and through the mission of our Lord Jesus Christ." 

It has been said that persuasion dwelt upon the lips of 
our philanthropist. The pages of recollection furnish many 
instances of his powerful and soul-subduing eloquence. We 
are impelled to select, from the fading record, two facts 
which are well authenticated : — 

A London mob had assembled in great force, with the 
most destructive and murderous designs. Time-honored 
edifices were to be demolished, and the weapons of death 
to be pointed at the most valuable lives. This scene of 

380 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



381 



riot was exhibited during the troubles relative to Mr. 
Wilkes ; all was tumult and tremendous uproar ; an attempt 
at reasoning was stifled by outrageous clamor ; the efforts 
of peace officers were fruitless, and the military was on the 
point of being called into action, when Mr. Murray, re- 
turning from some religious meeting to his peaceful home, 
found himself in the midst of the infuriated rioters, and in- 
stantly mounting a stand, which opportunely presented, he 
harangued the lawless multitude ; and, by soothing their 
prejudices, addressing their passions, and pointing out the 
only legitimate steps for the purpose of obtaining redress, 
he first obtained silence, next softened and ameliorated 
their passions, and finalty dispersed, without mischief, a 
most enraged populace. A nobleman, seizing him by the 
hand, impressively said, " Young man, I thank you. I am 
ignorant of your name ; but I bear testimony to your won- 
derful abilities. By your exertions, much blood and treas- 
ure have this night been saved." 

The second instance which we present is nearer home. 
A motion was made in the legislature of a sister State, 
then province, to raise a sum of money for the relief of the 
Bostonians, suffering from the severe decrees of a British 
ministry. Mr. Murray attended the debates ; the motion 
was seconded, and supported with spirit and judgment, and 
it was opposed with some violence and little reason. It 
was put to vote, and lost by a majority of twelve persons ; 
Mr. Murray's particular adherents voting against it. It 
happened he was on that day to dine at the house of a Dr. 

B , one of the triumphant majority, with several 

gentlemen on the same side of the question, when his pow- 
erful animadversions and reasoning upon the subject 
wrought so great a revolution as to produce a reconsidera- 



382 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



tion of the vote, and the motion for succoring the Bosto- 
nians passed b} T a majority of nine persons. 

Mr. Murray has been accused of licentious opinions and 
practices. His letters to his friends would fill many vol- 
umes ; addressed to the private ear of those he best loved, 
they ought to decide upon his opinions ; and, for his life, 
perhaps no man of abilities so stinted was ever a greater 
blessing to mankind. We indulge ourselves with giving 
one letter, written to the son of a most intimate friend : — 

" You are placed at school for two purposes : the im- 
provement of your understanding, and the formation of 
virtuous principles. It cannot be doubted that the im- 
provement of the heart is esteemed by those to whom you 
are most dear, beyond the most cultivated intellect. It is 
your business to unite these estimable objects ; your heart 
and understanding should be emulous in pursuit of excel- 
lence. Ethics, improved and elevated by the Christian 
religion, become the guides to real wisdom and solid hap- 
piness. These they could never have attained in the schools 
of heathen philosophy. It is not expected that you should 
thus early be engaged in the profound disquisitions of 
theology. The plain doctrines of the religion, which it is 
hoped you will profess, have been explained to you ; but 
the principal business is to open } T our heart for the recep- 
tion of those sentiments and principles, which will conduce 
to the direction of your actions in the employments and 
engagements of your subsequent life. Permit me, how- 
ever, to remind you of the necessity of reading the Scrip- 
tures, that is, of drinking the sacred waters at the fountain 
head. But, to read the Scriptures with advantage, judg- 
ment is necessary ; and as your judgment is not yet ma- 
tured, you must submit to the direction of your instructors. 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



383 



The plainest and most perspicuous passages will, for the 
present, best deserve and reward your attention. The his- 
torical parts of the Old Testament will entertain you, if you 
consider them only in a classical point of view, as valuable 
passages of ancient history ; but I would call your attention 
more immediately to the books which are most replete with 
moral instruction, such as the Proverbs of Solomon, the 
Wisdom of the Son of Sirach, and the admirable book enti- 
tled Ecclesiasticus. I. trust the time will come, when the 
prophecies will most pleasingly instruct 3 T ou ; at present you 
will peruse them for the poetical beauties which they con- 
fessedly display. Isaiah abounds with fine passages of this 
description, and Jeremiah is b}>- no means deficient in this 
line. You have no doubt read Pope's " Messiah," and could 
not but have observed that its most pleasing imagery is 
selected from Isaiah. If yen read the Old Testament with a 
taste for its beauties, }'ou will accomplish two important 
purposes : you will acquire a knowledge of the Holy Bible, 
which is your dut} r , and you will improve your taste and 
judgment. The New Testament requires the attention of 
every one, who professes himself a Christian. You must read 
-it with that humility which becomes a finite being, but more 
particularly a young person. You will do well to pay especial 
attention to the Sermon on the Mount, and to that admira- 
ble epitome of all moral philosophy, the rule of doing to 

OTHERS AS WE WOULD THEY SHOULD DO UNTO US. If yOU pay 

due obedience to this precept you will never hesitate in deter- 
mining what part you are, upon every occasion, to act. It 
is proper you should familiarize your mind to the language 
of Scripture ; although you may not fully comprehend the 
sacred writings, you will thus treasure up in your memory 
many useful passages, which may become in future highly 



384 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



consolatory. An early acquaintance with the letter of the 
Old and New Testaments has been found a substantial prop 
through lengthening j^ears ; but all this, my dear young 
friend, will avail but little, unless you add thereto prayer 
and praise* Make it therefore a rule, never to be violated, 
to pray night and morning. The Redeemer, while clothed 
in humanity, earnestly and fervently addressed the Deity ; 
forget not, therefore, to offer your private addresses to the 
Father of your spirit, at retiring to rest, and with the early 
dawn. Your age is the age of inadvertence ; you enjoy 
health, and you are a stranger to the cares of the world. 
Cheerfulness does indeed become you, but let me pray you 
to consider the value of time, and the importance of ap- 
propriating it to wisdom. Consider your parents ; the 
anxiety they experience upon your account ; most ardently 
do they desire your improvement. Laudably ambitious, 
they are solicitous that you should be eminent, in what- 
ever profession or employment you may be destined to 
engage. To see you contemptible would fill them with 
the extreme of anguish ; and, trust me, nothing will rescue 
you from contempt, but individual merit, a good disposi- 
tion, adorned by literature, and embellished hy the lighter 
accomplishments, and especially elevated by Christianit} r . 
Your parents have labored indefatigably to promote you ; 
but it remains with yourself to give success to their endeav- 
ors. The mind is not like a vessel, into which we may 
pour any good quality, whatever the director may choose ; 
it is rather like a plant, which, by the operation of its own 
internal powers, imbibes the nutriment afforded by the earth. 
I repeat, it is certain that instructors can serve you only 
in conjunction with your own efforts. Let me, then, entreat 
you to exert 3 r ourself, if } t ou have any regard for those 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



385 



parents, whose happiness so much depends upon your con- 
duct ; if you have any regard for your own honor, felicity, 
and prosperity ; if you hope to be useful, and respected in 
society. 

"Always consider me as your friend and servant, 

" John Murray." 

If the testimony of respectable contemporaries ; of men 
who disdained flatter}^ and whose judgment was unques- 
tionable ; who delighted to address our departed friend in 
the strains of panegyric, — if these vouchers were permitted 
to decide in his favor, we could produce a cloud of wit- 
nesses. We content ourselves with a few extracts from 
the many letters which might be produced. General Greene 
thus writes : "You may remember, I promised } t ou a letter 
at the close of every campaign. Had I the tongue of a 
Murray to proclaim, or the pen of a Robertson to record, 
the occurrences of this campaign should be delineated to 
the honor of America. The Monmouth battle, and the 
action upon Rhode Island, were no small triumphs to us, 
who had so often been necessitated to turn our backs. To 
behold our fellows, chasing the British off the field of bat- 
tle, afforded a pleasure which you can better conceive than 
I can describe. If, my dear Murray, I had before been an 
unbeliever, I have had sufficient evidence of the interven- 
tion of Divine Providence, to reclaim me from infidelity ; 
my heart, I do assure you, overflows with gratitude to Him, 
whose arm is mightier than all the princes of the earth. 
In the midst of difficulties, and I have encountered many, 
my heart reverts to } t ou. Were 3-011 addressing me from the 
pulpit, you could convince me that considering the world 
25 



386 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



to which I am hastening, I have not the least cause of com- 
plaint. I sigh for an opportunity of listening to the music 
of your voice. 

" Are you and the priests upon any better terms? Or 
are they as mad with you as ever ? "Well, go on, and pros- 
per, and may God bless you to the end of the chapter." 
Again, General Greene writes : " It is, my dear sir, a long 
time since you. and I have had a friendly meeting. God 
only knows when we shall be thus blest. It is impossible 
for me to give you an adequate idea of the distress of the 
once happ} T people of New Jersey. I know your fancy is 
lively, and your genius fertile. Give your faculties full 
scope, in drawing a picture, and it will still fall far short 
of the original. How greatly would you be pained were 
you present ! you who S3 r mpathize with everything in dis- 
tress, and feel and share the miseries of all around you. 
Oh, my dear, my dear friend, may God preserve you from 
such complicated distress ! Soon after you left me upon 
Long Island, I was seized with a violent fit of sickness ; 
m} T restoration was unexpected, but m}- health is now con- 
finned. Oh, what would I give for a few hours unin- 
terrupted conversation with our dear Murray ! I beseech 
you to visit Mrs. Greene in Coventry." One more extract 
from the letters of General Greene shall suffice. " Once 
more, on the close of the campaign, I am to announce to 
my very dear friend, that I am still an inhabitant of this 
globe. We have had a hard and bloody campaign, yet we 
ought rather to dwell upon the mercies we have received, 
than to repine because they are not greater. But man is 
a thankless creature ; yet you, dear Murray, know that the 
mercies of God are happily proportioned to our weakness. 
Retired to winter-quarters, the social passions once more 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



387 



kindled into life, love and friendship triumph over the 
heart, and the sweet pleasures of domestic happiness call 
to remembrance my once happy circle of friends, in which 
you, my dear sir, appear in the first rank. My friendship 
for you is indeed of the warmest description. My attach- 
ment was not hastily formed, and it will not easily be re- 
linquished. I earty admired 3-our talents ; your morals 
have earned my esteem ; and neither distance nor circum- 
stances will diminish nry affection." 

The subjoined extracts are from letters written by gen- 
tlemen of high respectability, in the mercantile, literary, 
' and Christian world. The first extract is from a letter, so- 
liciting a visit from the preacher. 

" The grand, the glorious expedition in which you are 
engaged, to disseminate truth and knowledge ; the assur- 
ances we can give } t ou how little is known here, and how 
eagerly it is wished that the ways of God to man should 
be made manifest, will, I trust, induce you to make an ex- 
ertion in our behalf. My ardent prayer is for } T our life and 
health. The harvest truly is great, but the laborers are 
few ; yet I trust in God that the beams of light will irra- 
diate this benighted world, and that he will accelerate that 
eternal da} r , when the Son shall give up the kingdom to the 
Father, and God shall be all in all." 

" You solicit me to write. M}^ writing can afford you no 
novelty, for what intellectual ground is there that you have 
not trod, or that I can mark out, which you have not be- 
fore observed? I am wearied with reiterated reflection, and 
I pant for that sky where I may range without confine- 
ment. The simple truths of the gospel please me much. 
I rest in confidence that Christ died for me, rose again for 
my justification, and will make me completely blessed ; 



388 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



that I am essentially united to, and a part of, that nature 
which pervades all space, and a spark of that fire that shall 
escape to heaven, its native seat. I recollect your preach- 
ing with pleasure, and I bless God for the light he has been 
pleased to convey to my mind, through your instrumental- 
ity. May your labors be blest with abundant success ; but 
I predict the genuine gospel laborers will be but few. Poor 
man ! you must stand singly opposed, without human aid. 
Be persuaded that the conflict will be inferior to your 
strength. I really despise the world for their treatment of 
you ; but you know who says, ' Be of good cheer, I have 
overcome the world.' What mildness was there in the * 
majesty of the person of the Redeemer ! He could have 
been no other than the Deity enrobed in a mantle of flesh. 
I venerate the liberal, the magnanimous principles of your 
general and your colonel ; and I love them, for their friend- 
ship for you, and the estimation in which they hold you. 
It is so rare to meet with liberal and enlarged minds, 
that, when I do, I exult at the discoveiy, and my soul leaps 
to embrace them. Should you have a vacant moment, you 
will do well to fill it by writing to us, your children." 

" Never, my dear Murray, can I forget you, while memo- 
ry holds her seat in this benighted vale. The impressions 
are too lasting to be effaced, and so deeply are they marked 
together, that, when the ideas of the great redemption arise 
in my mind, those of Relly and Murray are inseparable 
therefrom, as the mediums through which sublime truth 
beamed upon my soul. I am desirous of anticipating that 
adult age you so beautifully describe, when knowledge 
shall be conveyed, not by the obstructed tongue, or tardy 
pen, but b} r intuition. But, my dear sir, you must wait till 
that expected day, before I can tell you how much I esteem, 



LIFE OF liEV. JOHN MURItA Y. 



W9 



how much I love 3 T ou. Among a number of things you 
have taught me, I reckon it not the least, that the disposal 
of human affairs is in the direction of a Being whose op- 
erations will always produce the best consequences. I, 
however, find it difficult to suppress the indignation I feel 
at the treatment } t ou receive. What shall cure these dis- 
tempered minds? What shall compose the tumult of their 
frenzy, or rouse their feverish repose ? Not the skill of an 
Isaiah, nor the prayers of a Paul ; nothing short of the 
prescription of the grand Physician, who is the Healer of 
nations, and the application of that tree, whose leaf is for 
medicine. My wishes for you in this case are vain ; but I 
can never appreciate the aspirations of my heart ; not that 
you may be exempt from the conflict, but that you may 
conquer ; and you will conquer. Your reward is above, se- 
cure from the rage of impotent man, and the invasion of 
the grand adversary of human nature." 

" To be possessed of your confidence and friendship 
would be flattering to me in the highest degree. My wishes 
are to deserve both. You do indeed appear to me a chosen 
one, an elect soul. Call these expressions extravagant, if 
you please, but they are as far short of what I feel, as lan- 
guage is inadequate to the expressions of the refined taste 
of the mind." 

" Among the almost innumerable s} T stems, respecting 
our nature, being, and our end, in which the world have been 
so perplexed, and have exposed themselves so variously, 
none claims so fair a title to truth as the one you promul- 
gate. But the world have not so liberally attributed good- 
ness to Deity. Our benignant religion develops the good- 
ness of God in the enlightening sun, the fructifying rain, 
the cheering wine, and the nutritious bread. In short, in 



390 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



a thousand million examples, with which nature so liberally 
abounds. Indeed, we should seldom be unhappy, did we 
more constantly realize the presence of a redeeming God. 
I admire the candor of yowt mind, which is ever stepping 
forth as the advocate of your friends, although I may oc- 
casionally drop from that stand in your friendship which it 
would be my pride to maintain ; it is a persuasion, which I 
can never relinquish, that the wanderings of my heart may 
be reclaimed in an instant. Your letters are under my pil- 
low ; I bind them to me as phylacteries, and I attentively 
watch for a moment of leisure to acknowledge them. Mur- 
ra} r , should you pass out of time before me, I should expe- 
rience some exquisitely painful sensations. Oh, may you 
be for a long time to come invulnerable to the shafts of 
disease ! Yet why should I wish to turn the dart that will 
give you passport to a life of bliss and immortality — you 
who agonize at the present state of existence? No, let me 
neither accelerate nor retard, even by a wish, that period 
of humanity, but invoke our common Father, that we may 
be strengthened by the way, and with faith and patience 
quietly wait the expected release." 

"Your letter, my dear Murray, is like a great magazine, 
full of instruction and entertainment. Were I to attempt 
to give it due and just consideration, I should write a vol- 
ume, and probably not succeed at last. You ■ say, and I 
believe it, that we shall be built up again upon a superior 
principle. The world is so involved in the wicked one, 
that I am really glad to find any one willing to allow the 
goodness of God in any view ; it is at least one step 
toward a just way of thinking. I pray you to be content 
with your present standing ; you are too infirm to visit far 
from home. Where you speak, you are heard by many 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY, 



391 



strangers, who enter your capita}}, whom you know not, 
bat who hear and know you ; so I think your station is 
clearly pointed out, to which 3^011 do well to adhere. I re- 
gret exceedingly that I cannot attend your expositions of 
the ceremonial law, in which I understand you are en- 
gaged. Those laws are a deep and rich mine of instruc- 
tion. The Scriptures are One, like a great Epic ; their 
action is One, the Restoration of a lost nature. The sub- 
ordinate parts evidently point to the great Head and Cap- 
tain of our salvation. Go on, my dear sir, and may you 
be the means of bringing ruanjr sons to glory. Allow me 
to say, you ought to write more frequently ; j T our diligence 
and activity are well known to me ; but it seems incum- 
bent upon you to give the world your explanations of the 
sacred writings. Yes, I repeat, you would do well to be- 
stow some portion of your time, to record and elucidate 
many passages, which, when 3^011 are gone, may speak for 
you. 

" The event of your death, however dreaded, must be met 
by the greater part of 3 r our hearers ; and, although they 
may have remaining to them the sacred writings, yet you 
are aware that a preacher is necessary. I have compared 
3'ou to some of the general elements of life, whose good 
and salubrious existences are not known until the3' are lost. 
I consider you employed in removing the scales from the 
darkened eye, fortifying the timid mind against the 
approaching dissolution of nature, securing it from the 
blandishments of delusion, and leading it to arm against 
the terrors of calamity and pain. I m3 T self am indebted to 
you in hundreds of instances for light, and most important 
information. I need not repeat my best wishes to 3*011 ; 
they present themselves to me in full, whenever your 



392 



LIFE OF REV. JOUX MURRAY. 



memory occnrs to roe. I feel that it is hereafter, when you 
and I are liberated, that I shall derive a part of my happi- 
ness from the perfection of your friendship. May the leasts 
and lightest pains- infest yon here. This is the utmost a 
mortal dare wish or request. 

" Yes, my dear sir, I am now sensible of the- value of 
existence ; and the assurance of immortality has become 
my greatest happiness. The time was, when, to my serious 
moments, immortality appeared garbed in horror. Many 
a time have I wished I had never been born ; but — - blessed 
change ! — I can now perceive that light which shined in me, 
even then, although my darkness comprehended it not ; 
but, blessed be God ! my eyes are at length opened. Oh ! 
may God all-gracious watch over you, and preserve you 
from every evil ! The Almighty in great mercy hath loaned 
you to a benighted world. May the rich blessing be long 
continued/* 

" Gratitude, dear and honored sir, calls upon me to 
acknowledge my great obligations for the glorious declara- 
tion of those important truths, cf which y until I had the 
pleasure of seeing Mr. Murray, I was entirely ignorant, 
Erom that blessed era I elate the commencement of my 
terrestrial felicity. It is to 3011 as an instrument I am 
indebted for a glimpse of the beautiful harmony of the 
sacred writings. I can now behold, with devout admira- 
tion, the great salvation promised us by the word, by the 
oath of Jehovah,, in that holy book whichy although pos- 
sessed by many, is neither understood nor valued, except 
by a few elected individuals. I much wish for your con- 
tinued instruction ; and I know you take pleasure in con- 
sidering it 3-0111* duty to impart your knowledge of the 
Redeemer to the creatures whom he hath purchased with his 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



333 



blood. Would it were the will of God to give you a per- 
manent standing among the circle of my friends, who are 
so greatly devoted to you ! Then, dear sir, would our 
heaven be commenced upon earth, and all would be one 
continued scene of uninterrupted praises and thanksgiving 
for the great redemption wrought out by the death and 
sufferings of our blessed Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ." 

" Murray, how greatly you succeed, when engaged upon 
a theme which I emphatically call tour own ! I love to 
hear you speak upon any subject ; but on this you. are, I 
had almost said, divine. Your whole soul seems engaged 
when dwelling upon the Redeemer and his love to man. 
Nothing but the voice of the God who made j-ou, and who 
hath so wonderfully endowed you, can exceed the hone3'ed 
accents of your Heaven-inspired tongue. Do 3'ou wonder 
that I am daily wishing nryself among the number of your 
hearers, your happj T hearers ? But how contrasted is the life 
of a soldier to that of the peaceful Christian seated at the 
feet of Jesus ! " 

A respectable gentleman writing, nearly two } r ears since, 
from the city of Philadelphia, and speaking relatively to the 
recent publication of the venerable, the now departed 
saint, gratefully says : " These volumes, your 4 Letters and 
Sketches,' are all I hoped for, wished, or expected ; they 
are much more. I bless God, not on\y for the treasures of 
wisdom committed to his venerable servant, but also that 
his valuable life has been preserved to accomplish this 
work, — a production which will live, and be read with 
ineffable delight when the rubbish of ages shall have been 
consigned to oblivion." 

Should any curiosity exist respecting Mr. Murray's 
political sentiments, it may be sufficient to say, that he was 



LIFT. OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



in heart an American. America was the country of his 
adoption. He was decidedly and uniformly opposed to the 
oppression of the British ministry, and lie would have 
embraced any upright measures to have procured redress ; 
yet, perhaps, he would have been as well pleased had 
England and America been united upon terms of equality 
and reciprocal benefit. Nor can it be denied that he was, 
indubitably, an Anti-Galliean. In our opinion, a total 
dereliction of country stamps miscreant upon the individual 
who harbors feelings so reprehensible. England was the 
native country of the preacher. The virtues flourished in 
his bosom, among which the amor patrice glowed with no 
common lustre. He frequently amused himself with writ- 
ing in numbers, which, so soon as written, he generally 
committed to the flames. The following inartificial lines, 
written one hour after he received intelligence of the elemise 
of the celebrated and meritorious Earl of Chatham, may be 
considered as a correct delineation of his political views 
and wishes : — 

Swift on the car of fancy borne along, 
And safely landed on my native Isle, 
I join the mourning train assembled there, 
And stand unnoticed near the hallowed corse. 
I mark the empty pageantry of state, — 
A pageantry, alas ! not empty here, 
For here are real signs of real woe; 
All ranks, all orders, mingle in the throng j 
Borne raise the voice in majesty of woe ; 
Some silent stand as statues — pale with grief — 
At sight of these my tears more copious flow. 

Hark 1 — from yon seat a voice assails my ear, 
Than music in its softest strains more sweet. 
'Tis Camden ! favored sage, exalted chief, 
He calls his mourning country to attend,, 
As thus he pours the elegiae strain. 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



•395 



u From life's low vale where all was calm repose, 
And, taught by Heaven, the mind drank classic lore, 
To the tumultuous scenes of busy life, 
This peerless man, in hour of dread dismay, 
By pitying Heaven, in mercy to our land, 
Was summoned forth. He gracious heard and earner 
Hailed by Britannia's united voice. 
His royal master looked benignly kind, 
And bade him welcome to his arms, his heart; 
For howsoe'er remote their varied spheres, 
€ongeni;i? souls, 'twould seem, informed them both, 

" No longer viewed as servant, but as friend, 
In all his sovereign's councils he had part, 
Their hopes and fears, their aims and ends, the same. 
The nation gave her treasures to his care, 
Himself the richest TREASURE she possessed; 
And anxious eyes from every rank were raised, 
With serious awe, and steadfast hope, to him; 
Nor were their hopes, their expectations, vain. 
New life, new views, fresh vigor, nerved his arm; 
All that was wrong his vigilance set right, 
And, what was greater far, preserved it so. 
The foes he met (for who from foes is free ?) 
Were, to the peerless jewel of his worth, 
Like toiling lapidary to the costly gem, — 
They made its brightness more conspicuous shine. 

" The fawning sycophant oft sought his smile, 
But piercing eye-beams struck the caititF blind ; 
The foes to virtue trembled at his nod, 
While her glad sons flocked hovering round their sire. 
The merchant watched his eye; the sons of art, 
The swain who turns the glebe, but chiefly he 
On glory bent, who ploughed the watery way, 
Panting to grasp the treasures of the globe, 
He carefully this pole-star still observed, 
And safely voyaged, with this star in view . 
How wild, alas ! he'll wander, now 'tis hid. 

" The secrets of all states, ble^t heaven-taught sage, 
To thy pervading eye were all unveiled, 
And every dark intrigue was known to thee. 
The Gallic power trembled at thy nod . 



LIFE OF REV. JOHX MURRAY, 



And proud Castalia, cowering, bent to thee. 

In dire suspense the awe-struck nations stood, 

Nor could predict where next would burst the storm. 

" Lo ? as he points, our castles float along, 
And British thunders roll from shore to shore j 
The sooty tribes of Afric shrink appalled, 
And China's crafty sons distrust their skill. 

" In this great legislator's hand, our flag, 
Like that famed wand into a serpent changed, 
As Hebrew sages sung in days of yore, 
Made every other flag obsequious bow, 
And every nation owned or felt his power. 
But, while remotest lands through fear obeyed, 
His grateful country served with filial love, 
And every son of Albion shared his care. 

" Nor did the British garden, blooming round 7 
Alone engage the heavenly laborer's toil; 
With watchful eye he viewed those tender shoots, 
"Whilom transplanted to Columbia's soil : 
Those tender Iambs he gently led along, 
And to their plaints still bent a parent's ear. 
Dear, much loved offspring of this happy Isle I 
With us, sincere, ye mourn the common loss ; 
With us lament the father and the friend. 

" But while our bursting hearts deplore his flight, 
Perfidious Bourbon ghastly grins his joy; 
The Gallic cock noAV feebly claps his wings, 
And thinks to hear the lion roar no more. 
Base, treacherous, cringing, dastard slaves, beware 1 
Although our sun be set to rise no more, 
The moon and stars shall guide the lion's paw 
To seize thee trembling in thy close retreat. 
Already mark ! he shakes his shaggy mane, 
And growling rises from his murky den; 
His eyeballs roll with rage — they shoot forth flames ; 
He grinds his teeth, and finds them solid still; 
He tries his paws, and finds his talons strong. 
Our groans have roused him ; see, he sleeps no more, 
But still the royal issue of this isle, 
This highly favored regent of the main, 
Secure may stand, nor fear the lion's rage. 



LIFE OF TtEV. JOHX MURRAY. 



397 



*< What though the Demons of this land may strive 
To set the generous lion on her sons, 
The lion shrinks, — so ancient bards declare,—- 
Nor will destroy the issue nobly born. 
But those perfidious, who would set him on, 
With ghastly looks, and souls appalled by fear, 
Too late shall feel the horrors of despair." 

But it is the Religionist we are solicitous to char- 
acterize. And although the sentiments of the preacher 
may be gathered from his writings, yet, as this volume 
may come under the eye of some individuals who may not 
possess the publication to which we have so often alluded, 
it may be proper in this place to attempt a brief outline of 
the most prominent features in his creed. 

His full soul believed in one great and indivisible First 
Cause or origin of all created beings ; before this great 
First Cause one eternal now, was, is, and will be 
ever present. Everything which has passed, is passing, 
or shall pass, was ordained in his eternal purpose, and 
actually passed in review before him, ere ever the worlds 
were formed, or countless systems commenced their rev- 
olutions. 

The God of our philanthropist was omnipotent, omni- 
present, and omniscient ; consequently he performed all 
his will ; was, is, and will be, present through all space, 
through time, and through eternity. In the prosecution of 
his plans myriads of angels, in their various orders, were 
by his omnipotent power commanded into being ; these 
cherubim and seraphim, angels and archangels surrounded 
the throne of the Most High. The morning stars sang 
together and all the hosts of heaven rejoiced. 

But, strange as it may appear to our finite understanding, 
fell discord, with peace-destroying influence, reared his 



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hydra, his tremendous head. Various conjectures hover 
round this phenomenon. The origin of evil has exercised 
intellects the most profound and erudite ; but he who can 
develop the arcana of the Almighty may claim equality 
with his God. It should be our care not to attribute to 
Deity a mode of conduct irreconcilable with rectitude ; 
and to keep close to that revelation which he hath gra- 
ciously vouchsafed to bestow upon us. 

The creation of man succeeded the fall of the angelic 
nature. God said, Let Us make man, etc., etc. Speak- 
ing in the plural, with an e}^e to the complexity of that 
character he had predetermined to assume, and, as we be- 
fore observed, past, present, and future, constituted, the 
token of Deity, one complete whole ; and thus were im- 
portant occurrences garbed in language suited to the 
elevation of the Godhead. In process of time this august 
Creator was to be enrobed in humanity and become the 
Son born ; was to be exhibited as a holy spirit of consola- 
tion, taking of the things of Jesus, and exhibiting them to 
the mind ; thus speaking peace, Mr. Murray was at the 
same time a Unitarian and a Trinitarian, beholding", 
constantly beholding, the trinity in the unity. Let us 
make man in our image after our own likeness. Yea, 
verily, man may be considered as made in the image, and 
after the likeness of his Creator. The figure is striking : 
man is a triune being, body, soul, and spirit, yet no indi- 
vidual is considered as three but one man, the Trinity and 
Unity. The Almight}', clad in garments of flesh, became 
the God-Man, and, speaking of himself as man, he says, 
My Father is greater than I ; while, reverting to the 
divinity, he affirms the Father and He are One. "Philip, 
have I been so long with thee, and dost thou say, Show me 



LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 



390 



the Father? He who hath seen me hath seen the Father." 
Was this true, — or was Jesus Christ an impostor? In this 
view the Scriptures are beautifully consistent. "Iain Goo 
the Saviour ; a just God and a Saviour ; there is none 
beside me." This same evangelical prophet exultingly 
exclaims, Isaiah ix. 6 : " Unto us a child is born, unto 
us a son is given, his name shall be called Wonderful, 
Counsellor, the mighty God, the everlasting Father, the 
Prince of Peace." x Such were the comprehensive views of 
Deit} r which became more and more luminous to the mental 
eye of the preacher. 

He believed that the creation of human beings made a 
part of the divine purpose ; in which sacred, uncontrollable, 
and irreversible purpose, the whole family of man were 
originally and intimately united to their august Creator, 
in a manner mysterious, and as much beyond our limited 
conception as the Creator is superior to the creature whom 
he hath formed. 

Adam the first was a figure of Adam the second. Adam 
the first, the prototype ; Adam the second, the substance 
of the prototype, the Creator of all worlds, the Lord from 
heaven. The sacred Scriptures abound with figures of this 
m3 r sterious, this ennobling, this soul-satisfying Union ; 
among which perhaps none is more expressive than that 
of the Head and Members constituting one body, of which 
Jesus Christ was the immaculate Head. Hence the pro- 
priety and necessity of looking with a single e} r e to Jesus 
Christ. We are members of the body of Christ, who is the 
head of every man. Should a single member of this mys- 
tical body be finall\ r lost, the Redeemer must, through 
eternit}-, remain imperfect. 

A law was given, to the complete obedience of which ever- 



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LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



lasting life was annexed ; but no individual member was 
ever able to fulfil this law. It was only the head ancl 
members collectively in their glorious Head, that was 
furnished with abilities adequate to a performance of such 
vast magnitude. Yea, verity, toe do indeed break the 
divine law, in thought, in word, and in deed, and the lip 
of truth declares, he who offends in one point is guilty 
of all. 

Wiry, then, was the commandment so exceeding broad? 
To convince mankind of imbecility ; and that the rectitude 
they had forfeited could never, in their own individual 
characters, be regained. But the plan of Deity was with- 
out an error ; the revolution of time ushered in the great 
Representative, or, more properly speaking, the Head of 
the body ; and the forfeit was paid, full atonement was 
presented, the ransom given, and, in this hour of nature's 
jubilee, the prodigal family restored to their original 
possessor. 

To make this truth manifest was the great business of 
our promulgator. He was convinced that only he who 
believed could be saved ; and that he who believed not 
was indubitably damned. Hence he has frequently said, 
he did not believe in universal salvation, because he saw 
the majority of mankind were not saved. But he was a 
firm believer in Universal Kede:,iption ; because that 
sacred volume, which he steadfastly and unwaveringly 
believed to be the word of God, assured him the price was 
paid, and the whole human family was redeemed. 

It was the neglecting to distinguish between salvation 
and redemption, which so frequently drew upon the preacher 
the charge of prevarication, or, as it was termed by Mr. 
Croswell, hiding. An article of intelligence may be an 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



401 



established fact; it may most importantly affect us ; but so 
long as the mind refuses to admit its authenticity, we are 
undeniably subjected to all those agonizing apprehensions 
which we should endure if no such fact existed. And it 
was the salvation from these mental sufferings which Mr. 
Murray supposed consequent upon a preached gospel ; in 
other words, an exemption from those tortures, that con- 
sciousness of condemnation which is most emphatically 
described when it is said, He who believeth not, is, or 
shall be damned. 

Yet it is an established truth, that every believer was 
once an unbeliever; every believer, then, was once damned, 
and it was only when he became a believer that he was 
saved from those countless agonies, which erst times 
pierced him through with man}' sorrows. But he was re- 
deemed, the price was paid ere ever he was called into 
existence. Thus, in this view, redemption and salvation 
are distinct considerations. 

The preacher unhesitatingly believed, all who learned of 
the Father would come to Jesus, and that all would finally 
be taught of God. He was a decided believer in the doctrine 
of angels of light, and angels of darkness, of ministering 
spirits of light, and of demons stimulating to deeds of 
darkness. He looked forward, to a judgment to come, 
when countless numbers among the children of men would 
rise to the resurrection of ddmnation, and, ignorant of the 
genuine character of the Redeemer, would call upon the 
rocks and mountains to fall upon them and hide them from 
the wrath of the Lamb ; and, believing himself a humble 
instrument in the hand of God, ordained by him to the 
ministry of reconciliation, he was never so completely 
happy as when declaring the gospel to be believed ; and 
26 



402 



LIFE OF REV* JOHN MURRATo 



calling upon men everywhere to receive the glad tidings 
of salvation. He was persuaded that those who laid down in 
sorrow would continue unhappy wanderers, until the open- 
ing of that book, in which every human being, every member 
of Christ, was written ; yet he had no idea of any pur- 
gation for sin, save what was suffered by Christ Jesus, who, 
by himself, purged our sins. Writing of Mr. Winchester to 
a friend, Mr. Murray thus expressed himself: " Mr. Win- 
chester is full with Mr. Law, and of course preaches pur- 
gatorial satisfaction. According to these gentlemen, every 
man must finally be his own Saviour I If I must suffer as 
much in my own person as will satisfy divine justice, how 
is or can Christ Jesus be my Saviour? If this purgatorial 
doctrine be true, the ministry of reconciliation committed 
to the apostles must be false : ' to wit 7 God was in Christ 
reconciling the world unta himself not imputing unto them 
their trespasses.' In fact, I know no persons further from 
Christianity, genuine Christianity, than such Universal- 
ists." 

Mr. Murray supposed the inquietude of unembodied or 
departed spirits a natural effect derived from a cause. As 
unbelievers, they cannot see the things which belong to 
their peace ; but he greatly rejoiced that, however at 
present enveloped in darkness, there were, and are, things 
that did and do belong to their peace; that the day cometh, 
when whatsoever is hid shall be revealed; and that at the 
period of the restitution of all things the word, the oath 
of Jehovah was pledged, that every eye should see and 
every tongue confess. The preacher was persuaded that 
a few even in the present dispensation were elected out 
of the world to embrace the truth previous to their passing 
out of time. These judging themselves, are, therefore, not 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



403 



to be judged. Saints of God, they shall surround the Re- 
deemer at his second coming, or be caught up in the air 
to meet the God-Man ; after which the whole world shall 
be summoned at the imperial bar of the Sire of angels and 
of men, the Creator of all worlds. That a separation will 
then take place ; the Judge, the Redeemer, will divide them 
as a shepherd divides his sheep from the goats ; will separ- 
ate every individual from that body of sin and death of 
which Paul complained, being burdened ; from that fallen 
spirit which attaches to every individual in such sort as 
to the man among the tombs, rendering it a truth, that he 
who sleepeth apparently alone upon his bed is, nevertheless, 
still connected with his tormentor, and will so continue 
until this glorious day of separation and of restitution; 
when these two shall be separated one from another, the 
one taken, the other left. The fallen angels, figured by the 
goats, shall be ranged on the left hand, while the harassed 
human nature, redeemed by the God who created it, shall 
be found on the right hand of the Most High. Thus, 
after the world is judged out of the things written in the 
books ; after they are found guilty before God, and every 
mouth is stopped, the book of life shall be opened, in 

WHICH ALL THE MEMBERS OF THE REDEEMER, EVERY IN- 
DIVIDUAL of the Human Family, shall be found writ- 
ten ; and the ransomed of the Lord shall be declared 
denizens of that kingdom where dwelleth felicity uninter- 
rupted. 

Such were the leading sentiments of Our Universalist ; 
and he was firmly of opinion that the doctrines of the 
gospel, rightly understood, would teach men everywhere 
to be careful of maintaining good works, to love one 



404 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



another, and in all things to regard the best interests of 

their brother man.* 

* The following is quoted from the " Letters and Sketches," as Mr. Murray's 
selection of some of the scriptural vouchers of his beliefs, and as proving " All 

the sacred writers Universalists'' : — 

ALL THE SACRED WRITERS UNIVERSALISTS. 

I have no doctrine but the doctrine taught by God the Saviour. I reject 
every doctrine which the mouth of the Lord hath not spoken. The apostolic 
churches were formed by professors of the doctrine of universal redemption. 
Jesus Christ and his apostles preached and defended this doctrine. All the 
writers of Revelation were strong in the faithful belief of the doctrine of univer- 
sal salvation; so saith the Apostle Peter, when speaking of the world's Re- 
deemer. " The heavens must receive him, until the restitution of all things, 
which God hath spoken of by the mouth of all his holy prophets, ever since the 
world began." How much is contained in this single testimony of the apostle ! 
Yes, indeed, God blessed Abraham, and said, " In thee shall all nations of the 
earth be blessed." 

Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob believed God, and were therefore Universalists. 
« And the Lord said, I have pardoned according to thy word. But as truly as I 
live, all the earth shall be filled with the glory of the Lord." Numbers xiv. 20, 21. 
Moses believed God, and was therefore a Universalist. 

" All the ends of the world shall remember, and turn unto the Lord, and all 
the kindred of the nations shall worship before thee, for the kingdom is the 
Lord's. All they that go down to the dust shall bow before him." Psalm xxii. 
27, 28, 29. " Let the people praise thee, O God, let all the people praise thee." 

" All nations shall call him blessed, and let the whole earth be filled with his 
glory. Amen, and amen." Psalm lxxii. 8, 17, 19. 

" All nations whom thou hast made shall come and worship before thee, O 
Lord, and shall glorify thy name." Psalm Ixxxvi. 9. 

" My mouth shall speak the praise of the Lord, and let all flesh bless his holy 
name forever and ever." Psalm cxlv. 21. 

Thus it appears that the royal prophet was a strong Universalist. 

" They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain ; for the earth shall 
be full of the knowledge of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea." Isaiah *xi. 9. 
" And in this mountain shall the Lord of hosts make unto all people a feast of 
fat things. And he will destroy in this mountain the face of the covering cast 
over all people ; the veil that is spread over all nations ; he will swallow up death 
in victory. And the Lord God will wipe away tears from off all faces ; and the 
rebuke of his people will he take from off all the earth, for the mouth of the Lord 
hath spoken it." xxx. G, 8. 

All this, no doubt, Isaiah fully believed. Isaiah, therefore, was a Universalist. 

" Behold the days come, saith the Lord, that I will perform that good thing 



LIFE OF REV, JOHN MURRAY. 



405 



Conversant with the preacher upwards of forty } T ears, we 
never knew his testimony to vary in the smallest degree. 
In joy and in sorrow, in health, in sickness, and in death, 

which I have promised to the house of Israel, and to the house of Judah." See 
also Jer. xxxi. 31, 34. 

Jeremiah, in full assurance that God would perform what he promised, was 
unquestionably a UniversaUst. 

"When thy sister Sodom and her daughters shall return to their former 
estate, and Samaria and her daughters shall return to their former estate, then 
thou and thy daughters shall return to thy former estate." Ezekiel xvi. 55. 

Sodom and her daughters were those who suffered the vengeance of eternal 
fire. But the Prophet Ezekiel, being a UniversaUst, was persuaded they would 
not he eternally suffering the vengeance of eternal fire. 

" Pharaoh shall see them, and be comforted over all his multitude; even Pha- 
raoh and all his army slain by the sword, saith the Lord." Ezekiel xxxii. 31. 

" Then will I sprinkle clean water upon you, and you shall be clean from all 
your fllthiness, and from all your idols will I cleanse you. Then the heathen 
that are left round about you shall know that I the Lord build the ruined 
places." Ezekiel xxxvi. 25, 36. 

Thus we see Ezekiel, in declaring the salvation of Jew and heathen, was a 
UniversaUst. 

" Seventy weeks are determined upon thy people, and upon thy holy city, to 
finish the transgression, and to make an end of sin, and to make reconciliation 
for iniquity, and to bring in everlasting righteousness." Daniel ix. 24. Surely 
Daniel was a very strong UniversaUst. 

" Yet the number of the children of Israel shall be as the sand of the sea-shore 
that cannot be measured or numbered ; and it shall come to pass, that in the place 
where it was said unto them, ye are not my people, there it shall be said unto 
them, ye are the sons of the living God." Hosea i. 10. "And I will sow her 
unto me in the earth, and I will have mercy on her that had not obtained mercy, 
and I will say to them which were not my people, thou art my people, and they 
shall say, thou art my God." Hosea ii. 23. Was not Hosea a UniversaUst? 

"And it shall come to pass afterwards, that I will pour out my Spirit upon all 
flesh," etc. Joel ii. 28. "For I will cleanse their blood, that I have not 
cleansed." Joel iii. 21. 

" In that day I will raise up the tabernacle of David, that is fallen, and close 
up the breaches thereof, that they may possess the remnant of all Edom, and of 
the heathen, which are called by my name, saith the Lord, that doeth this." 
Amos ix. 11, 12. 

" And Saviours shall come upon Mount Zion, to judge the mount of Esau, and 
the kingdom shall be the Lord's." Obadiah, 21. 

" And he shall judge among many people, and rebuke strong nations afar off, 
and they shall beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into prun- 



406 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



not a single cloud appeared to gather upon the countenance 
of his God, or to obstruct, so far as it referred to his pros- 
pects beyond the grave, the clear sunshine of his soul. 

If we except the Rev. John Tyler, Episcopalian minister 
in Norwich, Connecticut, and the Rev. Edward Mitchell, in 
the city of New York, we do not know that the sentiments 

ing-hooks. Nation shall not lift up a sword against nation, neither shall they 
learn war any more. But they shall sit every man under his vine and under his 
fig-tree, and none shall make them afraid; for the mouth of the Lord hath 
spoken it." Micah iv. 3, 4. " He will turn again, he will have compassion upon 
us, he will subdue all our iniquities, and thou wilt cast all our sins into the depths 
of the sea. Thou wilt perform the truth to Jacob, and the mercy to Abraham, 
which thou hast sworn unto our fathers from the days of old." Micah vii. 19, 
20. Thus, it is plain, the prophets were all Universalists. 

But the angels of God are also Universalists. Let us listen to those messen- 
gers of heaven, while addressing the wondering shepherds of Judea. " And the 
angel said unto them, Fear not, behold I bring you good tidings of great joy, 
which shall be to all people. And suddenly there was with the angels a multitude 
of the heavenly host, praising God, and saying, Glory be to God in the highest, 
and on earth, peace and good-will towards men." Luke ii. 10, 14. 

The devout Simeon was a Universalist. " For mine eyes have seen thy sal- 
vation, which thou hast prepared before the face of all people, a light to lighten 
the Gentiles, and the glory of thy people Israel." Luke ii. 30, 31, 32. 

But that we may ascertain what all the evangelists and all the apostles 
were, in one view, let us hear the sentiments of our Saviour himself upon this 
subject. " For I have given unto them the words which thou gavest me, 
and they have received them." John xvii. 8. " For I have not spoken of my- 
self, but the Father which sent me ; he gave me a commandment what I should 
say, and what I should speak, and I know that this commandment is life everlast- 
ing. Whatsoever I speak, therefore, even as the Father said unto me, so I 
speak." John xii. 49, 50. See, also, ver. 32. 

Let us now attend to the ministry committed to the apostles. " God was in 
Christ, reconciling the world unto himself, not imputing unto them their tres- 
passes." 2 Corinthians, ver. 19. " And he shall send Jesus Christ, who before 
was preached unto you, whom the heavens must receive until the times of the 
restitution of all things, which God hath spoken by the mouth of all his holy 
prophets, ever since the world began." Acts iii. 21. 

It is plain, from these testimonies, and many more which might be adduced, 
that the doctrine of Universalism is the doctrine of God our Saviour; and while 
the Universalists can produce so many illustrious vouchers, they never can be 
discomforted, or even embarrassed. — Letters, etc., ii. 422-425. 




THE GRAVE OF MURRAY. 



1 



LIFE OF REV* JOHN MURRAY. 



407 



of any preacher of Universalism now upon this continent 
are exactly in unison with the departed promulgator. But 
if they build upon the great foundation, we devoutly wish 
them God-speed ; well assured that those who build upon 
this foundation — "gold, silver, precious stones, wood, 
hay, stubble — every man's work shall be made manifest. 
For the clay shall declare it, because it shall be revealed by 
fire ; and the fire shall try every man's work, of what sort 
it is. If any man's work abide which he hath built there- 
upon, he shall receive a reward. If any man's work shall 
be burnt, he shall suffer loss, but he himself shall be 
saved ; yet so as by fire." 

Mr. Murray's last marriage was the result of a strong 
and holy friendship, founded upon the Rock of Ages ; and, 
originating in devout admiration of redeeming love, it is 
fervently hoped, and unwaveringly believed, that this union 
will be perfected in another and a better world. 

One son and one daughter were the offspring of this 
marriage. The son surrendered his innocent life in the 
birth. The daughter still survives, the prop and consola- 
tion of her widowed mother. * 

* We quote from Whittemore's " Life of Ballou," the account of Mr. Murray's 
re-burial in 1837 : — 

" The deeply interesting event of the removal of the remains of Rev. John 
Murray to Mount Auburn took place on June Sth. From the year 1815 the hotly 
had mouldered in the Sargent tomb, in the Granary Burying-ground in Boston, 
without a stone or inscription of any kind, to denote that the ashes of the man 
who had stirred the country with the tidings of universal love were resting 
there. The means for the purchase of a lot at Mount Auburn, and the erection 
of a monument, had been raised by the voluntary contributions of Universalists, 
and everything had been made ready for the reception of all that was left of the 
body of the animating preacher. About a week before the re-burial, the coffin 
was removed from the tomb to the vestry of the First tJniversalist Church, 
where it was covered neatly with black broadcloth, and a plate affixed, bearing 
the inscription, ' Rev. John Murray, died Sept. 3, 1815, aged seventy-four.' This 



408 



LIFE OF REV. JOHN MURRAY. 



coffin was placed directly in front of the pulpit from -which Murray had so often 
spoken the words of eternal life. At two o'clock on the afternoon of the eighth 
of June, the doors were thrown open, when the spacious and venerable edifice 
was immediately filled, for an immense crowd had been in waiting to enter. 
The pews in the broad aisle were reserved for the members of the Massachusetts 
Convention of|Universalists, who had been in session on the previous day at 
Maiden; and for a few of the companions of Murray in his early labors in Bos- 
ton, who still lingered on earth. The immense auditory, the striking portrait of 
Murray hanging in front of the pulpit, the black drapery, the tears of the aged 
who remembered the man, and of the middle-aged and young who had heard of 
him, but, above all, the mute coffin shrouded in black, — all conspired to make 
the scene deeply impressive. The choir rose and sung, 1 The Lord is risen 
indeed. He burst the bars of death, and triumphed o'er the grave,' etc. Then 
prayer was offered by an aged clergyman (Rev. Joshua Flagg), who had been a 
fellov\--laborer with the departed. An eloquent discourse was preached by Eev. 
Sebastian Streeter, from the following appropriate words: ' And the bones of 
Joseph, which the children of Israel brought up out of Egypt, buried they in 
Shechem, in a parcel of ground which Jacob bought of the sons of Hamor, the 
father of Shethem, for a hundred pieces of silver; and itbecnmethe inheritance 
of the children of Joseph.' Joshua xxiv. 32. The sermon was very impressive. 
The speaker was deeply touched with his subject, and frequently gave vent to his 
feelings in bursts of impassioned eloquence. At the close of services a move- 
ment took place towards Mount Auburn. Scores of chaises and light carriages 
proceeded directly to the spot, while the funeral procession was being formed. 
Fifty-two hackney coaches followed the hearse, containing the members of the 
convention and the leadiug Universalists of Boston and the vicinity; and after 
these came a large number of barouches, the whole forming a procession of 
more than two-thirds of a mile in extent. Arrived at the gate of the cemetery, 
although a drizzling rain was falling, the procession was formed on foot, and 
moved to the grave. Standing on the very verge thereof, Father Ballou, at the 
request of his brethren, delivered unimpressive address. 

"At the close the speaker lifted up his voice in thanksgiving and prayer, — in 
thanksgiving, that God had blessed this land with the labors of John Murray, 
and that the cause which that eminent man had espoused in its infancy had been 
prospered abundantly under the smiles of a benignant Providence ; in prayer, 
that God might bless the solemn services of the day to the moral improvement 
of all who were present. And then, after a benediction, the immense crowd 
dispersed to their homes." — G. L. D. 




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